


A More Perfect Union

by sophisticatedyet



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: (aka there are Republicans), Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American Politics, Coming Out, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Magnus Bane & Isabelle Lightwood Friendship, Politics, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2018-10-31 22:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10908789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophisticatedyet/pseuds/sophisticatedyet
Summary: Politics makes strange bedfellows.The Lightwoods are one of the most powerful families in the United States. They're a New York political dynasty that goes back decades and Maryse and Robert Lightwood now expect their eldest child, Alec, to continue this tradition. After all, politics is in his blood.Alec has been in Boston working as a lawyer for the last few years, but now it's time to return home to assist his mother’s mayoral re-election campaign, make some connections, maybe meet his future wife, and prepare for his own run for office. This is what he's been groomed since birth to do...But then Magnus Bane, a nightclub owner and  the number one public enemy of Maryse Lightwood's campaign, just has to come along and complicateeverything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt: http://ladygawain.livejournal.com/83265.html?thread=958273#t958273
> 
> Well, this is a fic I've tried to write multiple times in every fandom I've been a part of. As I'm now up to 30k words, I've decided that it's time to release it to the public before I got scared and it ended up in my WIPs folder forever.
> 
> Despite it being a political fic, I've kept the politics to a minimum because I didn't want to bore you out of your minds.
> 
> Enjoy! xoxo

Jace and Isabelle met him at La Guardia’s arrivals with enthusiastic, attention-drawing cheers and a handmade banner that read _WELCOME HOME!_ in glitter glue. It was the same one they brought every time, and there were balding spots where the adhesive had stopped working and the glitter was flaking off. Alec sighed and hoisted his bag further up his shoulder as he scuttled towards them.

“I’ve been gone _three months_. You don’t need to do this every time I come back," he groaned.

“He’s been back less than a minute and he’s already moaning at us – surely that’s some kind of record,” Jace said to no one in particular as Alec glared at him.

Isabelle ignored him and hugged her brother, kissing his cheek and saying, “It’s good to see you again, Alec, I’ve missed you,” which caused him to soften ever so slightly as he returned the embrace.

“I’ve missed you too, Iz; you, not so much,” he couldn’t resist adding to Jace but still walked up to him and gave him a quick, tight hug. “What's been going on while I've been gone?”

“Mom's been going slowly insane,” Isabelle said.

Jace clapped his shoulder. “You’re a brave, stupid man to be working with her _voluntarily_. I swear even Robert’s starting to crack: he spends most of his time finding excuses to fly to D.C.”

As he was walked out of the terminal, the dismayed realisation dawned that he was being shepherded towards the parking lot which meant that, unless Jace had learnt to drive or Isabelle had bought a car recently, Simon and Clary were part of his welcome party.

“Maybe if you guys helped out more she’d be less stressed?” Alec suggested, knowing full well that there was no way that would be the case. It was an election: Maryse Lightwood would be stressed until the final ballot was cast and then she would worry about all the things that they could have done differently until the next campaign started and she had something new to fixate on. After twenty five years, Alec had come to realise that was just the way she worked and no one could change it.

“Jace spent all of yesterday winding her up by joking that he missed the deadline for changing his address on his voter registration, except she didn’t get the joke,” Isabelle said. “She was close to having an aneurysm by the time he stopped being a dick.”

“Well, at least we know who to blame her inevitable heart attack on.”

Jace was too distracted by Clary hopping out of Simon’s van to think of retort. Alec’s cheerful mood disappeared in a puff of bright red hair as Jace enveloped her in a hug, even though he couldn’t have been waiting in the terminal even twenty minutes.

“Hi Alec!” she chirped.

“Hey man, how’s Boston?” Simon greeted from the driver’s seat as Alec, Jace and Clary hopped into the back. Isabelle got into the passenger’s seat and kicked her legs up onto the dashboard, immediately fiddling with the radio. “You look _profesh_.”

Alec shrugged. “Cold, wet, busy.” He ignored the comment about his appearance, partly because he wasn’t entirely sure what ‘profesh’ meant.

“What case are you working on at the minute?” Clary asked.

Simon interrupted his response by blasting the horn and swearing loudly at someone who cut him off as he reversed out of the parking bay. Alec waited until they were on their way to reply.

“None, I wouldn't have been able to finish anything before the campaign. I’ve been helping a co-worker out with one of his- trying to prove a woman innocent of killing her husband, but it was a pretty gruesome murder and there aren’t any other suspects at the moment.”

“How gruesome?” Simon asked, twisting around to look at Alec with interest. The van swerved unnervingly and Isabelle grabbed his chin and forced his face back to the windscreen. _This_ was why Alec hated being driven anywhere by Simon: it always felt like he was courting death.

“He was stabbed more than twenty times, mostly in the face and neck.”

Simon whistled but, thankfully, kept his eyes on the road this time.

“Did she do it?” Jace asked.

Alec shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Personally, I can empathise with her if she did do it - men are the worst,” Isabelle said and Clary hummed in agreement which caused Jace to make a disbelieving huff in offense.

“Is that aimed at anyone in particular?” Alec asked.

“Meliorn,” Jace said, which resulted in Isabelle throwing a road map of New York at his face from the front seat with perfect accuracy.

Alec didn’t recognise that name and he raised his eyebrows at his sister. This was clearly something Isabelle had omitted from their weekly phone calls that she'd mandated when Alec had moved out.

“And who’s Meliorn?”

Isabelle was giving Jace the finger which turned into a blasé hand wave at Alec’s question. “Old news and unimportant. How’s _your_ love life?”

“You’re dodging the question. And nothing’s changed since the last time you asked, which was last week. _No_ ,” he added on quickly as Isabelle opened her mouth, “I definitely _don’t_ need you to set me up with someone.”

She groaned. “God, you’re boring.”

“To be fair, Iz, if your taste in women is anything like your taste in men, I think it’s fair enough Alec wants to stay as far away from your matchmaking as possible.”

“I have better taste than you.”

“Hey!” Clary protested good-naturedly, “Jace has fine taste in women, thank you very much.”

Isabelle laughed. “You’re obviously an anomaly, Clary, and we’re all so grateful you came along because the girlfriends before you were…” She trailed off, shuddering.

The conversation degenerated into an argument over Isabelle’s taste in women compared to Jace’s and from there, insults of Jace’s less-than-stellar dating history. Alec let his attention wander slightly; resting his head against the window and watching New York go by.

Outside, the airport parking lot had given way to the hustle and bustle of Brooklyn. The heavy cloud cover made it look like evening was fast approaching, even though it was barely noon. The constant light drizzle hinted at a miserable, cold fall to come.

 

* * *

 

By the time they reached the house, the drizzle had turned into a steady downpour.

The house looked the same as it always did, the four story, faded red brick house, squeezed in the middle of a row of identical facades. Fat raindrops fell from the leaves of the trees that sheltered the sidewalk, making Alec hurry up the steps to the door as he had a hundred times before, treading in the grooves their feet had slowly worn into the stone stairs over the years. Except this time it was just Isabelle and Alec running home; Jace had finally taken the plunge into adulthood and moved into an apartment with Clary. Alec felt strange waving goodbye to him, Simon, and Clary as they pulled away, it was just another small sign that life in New York was moving on without him.

However not everything had changed. The instant Alec entered the house, Max was sprinting at him and leaping into his arms with an excited yell, giving Alec just enough time to drop his suitcase and catch him.

 “Surprise!”

“Max!” Alec grunted as he struggled to hold him up. “Damn, you’re getting heavy. Why aren’t you at school?”

“He insisted on coming back this weekend to see you,” his father said, coming out from the sitting room followed by his mom. “He didn’t talk to us about anything else for a week until we promised we were picking him up.”

Alec set his brother back on the ground, straightening to greet them. His parents, his mother in particular, were surprisingly nearly as enthusiastic to have him back as Max was; Alec suspected that it had something to do with a free and eager source of labour.

“It’s _so_ good to have you home, Alec,” his mother said, enveloping him in a rare hug. Alec smiled and gave her an awkward one-armed embrace in return. She confirmed Alec's suspicion when she added, “It’s been nonstop here for the last month, we’ve really needed you.”

“You’re going to regret leaving Boston by this afternoon once you see the amount of work you have to do,” his dad said as he also hugged Alec.

There was a lively discussion happening in the sitting room and occasionally a stranger would rush across the hallway and return with yet another pot of coffee. In the brief minute they had been stood in the entrance, Alec had seen at least two pots get delivered.

“Have we relocated campaign HQ?”

Robert laughed. “You try getting your Mom to go back to the office that we rent _specifically_ for these kinds of meetings. It’s tough.”

“Is it for something important? Should I join?”

Maryse shook her head. “I can handle one more evening without you, enjoy the night off. I’ll need you from first thing tomorrow - have you remembered the fundraiser?”

“Of course.”

“The Governor’s coming.” Maryse looked as proud as peacock as she delivered the news.

Isabelle gave him a long-suffering look. “Yes, we’re all _very_ excited.”

“Isabelle, let’s get rid of that tone,” Maryse said sharply.

Isabelle made no attempt to hide her eye roll from their mom and Alec could see the tension building so he added, “That’s excellent news, Mom - but it’s hardly a surprise, he was always going to give you his endorsement.”

It was a good thing he had decided to come early; he had a suspicion that he would be missing a mother or a sister had he waited another month like he initially planned.

Maryse nodded and smiled thinly. “Yes, well, we have plans to go over to make sure everything will run smoothly. I’ll see the two of you tomorrow,” she said addressing Isabelle and him before leaning down and giving Max a kiss on the forehead, “and Dad will be driving you back to school early tomorrow morning, so no staying up too late, okay?”

Alec left Max to moan at their parents as he carried his suitcase up the flights of stairs to third floor, which had been his and Isabelle’s realm for as long as he could remember. The crayon wall drawings and dents in the plaster from their many sword fights had long been filled in and repainted, but there were still some reminders of their childhood like the height notches in the door frames and their names spelled in colourful wood block letters on the walls. As always, both doors were wide open so they could easily yell at each other and up the final set of stairs to the attic that had been renovated when his parents adopted Jace.

Isabelle’s room was the same chaotic mess it had been since Maryse decreed that they were old enough to clean up after themselves. Clothes and books were strewn across every available surface with paths cleared between the doorway, bed, desk, and wardrobe. The skeleton Jace and Alec had bought her as a joke gift when she got into med school was being used as a jewellery stand next to her mirror. Alec wasn’t sure whether Jace or Isabelle had put the brassiere and lacy red thong on it.

On the other hand, his room had undergone subtle changes since his last trip home. Most importantly, the comfy armchairs that Alec had spent many hours curled up in in high school had gone, replaced by a large mahogany desk that was already covered in neat stacks of papers - he gave it until Monday until those piles had been redistributed over every available surface of his room. He wasn’t great at remembering to tidy after himself when he had a lot of work on. Alec glanced over them as he dropped his suitcase on the foot of his bed. They appeared to position statements from his mother’s campaign that he had also had emailed to him several times, and an unaddressed invitation to the fundraiser the next weekend.

Isabelle danced into the room with Max following on her heels.

“I tried to stop her from redecorating but she was adamant that you were more in need of a proper work desk than the armchairs,” she said apologetically when she saw Alec examining them. “I convinced her to put them in Jace’s room, though, instead of throwing them out.”

Alec smiled his thanks. “It’s probably an idea to take them back to Boston with me, they’ll be more use there.”

“Any presents in there for me?” Max interrupted, eyeing Alec’s case curiously.

Isabelle laughed as Alec rolled his eyes. “Is there a word you missed there?”

“ _Please_?”

“It’s not wrapped,” Alec warned and unzipped his case, digging through the layers of clothes to the books he had carefully packed first to prevent himself from forgetting them. “I was expecting _someone_ to still be at boarding school so I thought I’d have time to properly prepare.”

He pulled the heavy plastic bag from the bottom, throwing the folded jacket on top onto the floor. Isabelle picked it up as Max went red with excitement at the latest book series Alec had found for him. He immediately threw himself onto Alec’s bed, curling up with the first installment.

“You’re going to need to get this pressed if it’s what you’re going to wear tomorrow,” Isabelle said reprovingly, shaking out his suit blazer.

Alec frowned at it. The jacket looked fine to him: maybe a little bit sad after spending a day in his suitcase but there were no obvious wrinkles and it would probably look fine when he was actually wearing it. Isabelle sighed and hung it up as if she could guess what her brother was thinking. It probably wasn’t hard, Alec was notoriously uncaring when it came to clothing.

She had plucked the invitation from his desk and was waving it threateningly at him. “You need to look nice or mom will throw a fit.”

“How many of these things have we been to, Iz?” he asked. “I don’t need instructions.”

“Yeah,” Isabelle sighed. “No idea why you’d _want_ to go into politics after all this, surely you’ve had enough of fancy, ass-kissing dinners for the rest of your life. I know I have.”

“Maybe one day I’ll learn to love the fundraisers.”

She just laughed at him.

They’d been over this enough that Alec didn’t need to give her a proper response. Isabelle had got to the point where she had given up trying to actively persuade him to pick a different career and Alec didn’t mind having to put up with the occasional derisive comment about his future if it meant there wouldn’t be any more of Isabelle’s interventions. If she kept quiet about politics and in return Alec ignored the hungover men he sometimes saw leaving her room on Saturday mornings because Isabelle couldn’t stand what she called his ‘piously judgemental expression.’

It was a relatively new system, but it worked wonders on stopping all the little fights they used to constantly have.

“There’s an open bar at this one, at least,” Isabelle said. “We can spend the whole night mingling next to it. You know it’s where Jace’ll be if he gets forced to come.”

“I’d rather stay with the sober guests than have to spend my whole night talking to drunk ones. You know they never stop talking.”

“No one at those things ever stops talking - at least this way I’ll be too drunk to remember it the next day.”

Alec rolled his eyes at her. “You know Mom will have given the bartenders orders not to serve us more than one drink.”

“Well, I plan to sneak in a flask of tequila in my bra, just in case.”

“Iz!” Alec widened his eyes and glanced pointedly at Max who, to his relief, had to fallen asleep amongst Alec’s pillows, curled around his new book. Isabelle smiled fondly at their younger brother. Any scolding that he had had planned left his mind, he was too tired to get into those kinds of arguments.

Instead, he pulled an unused cushion from the bed and leaned against his closet door.

“So, what else have I missed?” he asked.

Isabelle obligingly launched into a minute-by-minute retelling of the past three months, from Jace’s recent attempts to find his true calling in life to the subtleties of her flirting (and subsequent falling out) with Simon, which went straight over Alec’s head and, he suspected, Simon’s too. Some were stories he had already heard, such as Jace’s two days volunteering on the tourist ferries to and from Liberty Island in which he discovered his ferocious seasickness, but others like Isabelle’s lab partner - apparently the cause of her fight with Simon - had been omitted from their phone calls.

He missed these long, late-night conversations when he was in Boston. He liked his job, he got on with his colleagues and occasionally he went to drinks with them after work, but all they ever talked about was _this_ case and _that_ case. He skyped with Isabelle and Jace weekly, and texted them almost daily, but it was undeniably lonely. Even if he wasn’t committed to his mother’s campaign, he knew he probably would have ended up returning home.

After exhausting the tales of New York, Isabelle pestered Alec into talking about life in Boston with instructions to leave out any story that might involve work. His short stories about the quality of Chinese restaurants and the pigeons that sat on his bedroom windowsill and squawked every morning seemed to highlight his isolation, but Isabelle didn’t mention it, letting him ramble on until their father tapped on the door.

“Max needs to go to his own bed,” he said. “Though I don’t doubt he’ll come wake you up tomorrow to say goodbye.”

They both nodded and obediently got up. Isabelle tucked his chair back under the desk while Alec threw the pillow back on the bed and gently shook Max’s shoulder, who blinked blearily up at him.

“Come on, up you get. You’re too big for me to carry now,” Alec told him, earmarking the page his book had fallen open to as Max shuffled to the edge of the bed in a zombie-like fashion.

Isabelle was standing in the in the hallway, and tapped the back of his head with the spare invitation she had been playing with all night as he stumbled towards the stairs. “Straight to bed,” she said. “Goodnight both of you.”

“Night,” Max yawned.

“Sleep well,” Alec called as he softly shut his door.


	2. Chapter 2

Alec fiddled with his cufflinks absentmindedly, twirling the silver square between his thumb and forefinger as he listened to the conversations around him. It was a nervous tick that appeared whenever he didn’t have anything else to do with his hands. His mother caught his eye from the other side of the large circle of people they were stood in and subtly squared her shoulders and raised her chin. It was the subtle code for _sort yourself out_ that Alec had been getting since he was a child.

He mimicked his Maryse’s good posture and folded his hands behind his back as he strived to pay closer attention to the discussion of Russian-Ukrainian relations in which people were contributing plenty of opinions, very few of them backed up by fact.

Isabelle was right, of course, this was exactly the kind of social event that Alec detested. Even people who may be perfectly nice in the real world became ugly caricatures of themselves, determined to show off their wealth and influence. His parents were at the centre of it, schmoozing with anyone who got too close and going out of their way to talk to the ones with the fattest wallets. Jia, Maryse’s chief of staff and deputy campaign manager, hovered by his mother’s shoulder the whole time, whispering names and facts about their guests. The whole production was like something out of a TV show.

However, despite his contempt for the duplicity and fraud that was rife at these kinds of events, Alec knew how necessary they were. Skill could get you far in politics, but money got you elected.

The fact that his feet were growing numb to the pinching of his uncomfortable dress shoes was a sign that he had been stood with these people for too long so he put on a smile and dutifully circulated the room. Every conversation played out in much the same way: he would introduce himself and thank the person for coming, graciously accept their congratulations on his mother’s success and compliments about the quality of the event, he would then enquire about whatever detail of their life he could remember, listen to them boast for a few minutes before making some joke about politics and moving on to the next group.

The most arduous conversation came halfway through the night, just as he was heading towards the bar to persuade the bartenders to serve him another drink despite whatever orders Maryse may have given. He hated to admit it, but Isabelle was definitely onto something with her flask of tequila.

“Alec!”

His mother interrupted his quest for alcohol, escorting a couple that Alec recognised from other events like this one but had never formally been introduced to.

“This is my son, Alec,” she said. “Alec, this is Mr. and Mrs. Branwell. We were at college together and Mr. Branwell owns the office space we’re using for the campaign.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I don’t suppose you could give us a bit of a discount on the rent?” Alec joked and the couple laughed.

“The discount comes in the form of campaign donations,” Mr. Branwell said jovially.

“Very generous ones,” Maryse added.

Alec smiled. “Well, that’s a discount we’re definitely happy to accept.”

“Alec’s taken some time off work in Boston to run my campaign, won’t be long until he’s running his own,” Maryse explained to the couple.

“What do you do in Boston?” Mr. Branwell asked courteously.

“I’m an attorney.”

“Oh! So is our daughter. She just passed the bar exam a few months ago,” Mrs. Branwell said, a small smile on her face and chest puffed out with pride.

“Congratulations to her. Has she found a job?  Law school was a breeze for me in comparison to the job market.”

“Yes, she did so many internships during her degree that there was no problem there. She’s working here in New York, actually… Maybe you two should meet for coffee?”

Maryse beamed. “I’m sure Alec would love that.”

Alec, in fact, would _not_ love to meet a stranger who he had nothing in common with other than a degree and a profession, but there wasn’t a polite way to say that so his only option was to smile and say, “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

“Wonderful! I have one of her business cards on me,” Mrs. Branwell said as she dug around in her purse to retrieve a card with _Lydia Branwell_ , a work address, and a phone number written on it. “You should give her a call and organise something.”

“I’ll do that,” Alec promised with no intention of doing that. He robotically took the card and slipped it into his pocket, already thinking of suitable excuses he could use if he ever ran into the Branwells again. He could always blame his busy work schedule and no time for socialising for not finding the time to call.

The pleasantries continued until Mr. and Mrs. Branwell spotted someone they knew in the crowd and left Alec alone with his mother. The second they were out of earshot, Maryse turned on him.

“You should definitely meet up with Lydia, she’s a _lovely_ girl. I met her at a dinner the other day and she’s exactly your type, very pretty and clever.”

Alec trusted his mother’s taste even less than he trusted Jace. In fact, he would rather ask one of the homeless people on the subway to set him up on a date rather than depend on Maryse Lightwood to find him a future spouse.

“Mom, I don’t need you to find me a girlfriend.”

“Well you aren’t doing a very good job of it on your own so I thought I should give you a hand.”

“I’m not even interested in dating right now!”

Maryse sighed. “You’re at the point in your life where you should at least start _looking_.” She changed tack, clearly sensing the resistance, “Just humour me and give Lydia a call?”

“Fine,” Alec said, agreeing just to get rid of her. His mom stared at him for a long moment before Jia reappeared at her side, muttering to her about the Governor wanting a word: Maryse immediately put her politician’s face back on and left, meaning Alec was free to seek out the closest source of alcohol.

While waiting for the bartender’s attention, he resisted the urge to press his forehead against the cool, sticky wood. That would probably cause some concern. Instead, he had to make do with closing his eyes and taking a long, calming breath. Only two hours to go…

“Long night?”

The voice came from his left, accompanied by a hand offering a bright blue drink in a cocktail glass with a red cherry floating on top.

The hand was attached to a man in a teal blazer that was embroidered with flowers that spilled down the lapels from his shoulder. He was wearing makeup – a soft smokey brown eyeshadow that wasn’t immediately noticeable, but made his stare even more intense because his amber eyes seemed to shine. Alec had no idea how he could have spent an hour in the ballroom and _not_ noticed this man because he definitely stood out from the crowd.

“Um.”

“It’s a blue lagoon. Hardly any alcohol in it. I’m not trying to get you drunk, I promise, I prefer my first time to be when both parties can remember it.” He smiled and waved the glass under Alec’s nose.

“Um.”

Alec took the cocktail without a clue of what was going on. It appeared that this attractive, peculiar man was giving him a drink and possibly insinuating sex. But, as far as Alec could remember, they were at a fundraiser for his mother’s mayoral campaign, surrounded by New York City’s most influential Republicans. The situation was so farfetched that someone could tell Alec he had suddenly been transported to another galaxy and he might believe them.

The stranger plucked the cherry out of his own drink and sucked it into his mouth without taking his eyes off Alec’s.

Alec blinked and furiously ordered himself to _do something straight_ , but his mouth didn’t want to comply.

Instead, he stuttered out, “I, uh, I’m Alec,” bit his lip and then blushed so deeply that it felt like his whole face was on fire. He hoped that he came across slightly less pathetically desperate than he was feeling, but the widening grin on the stranger’s face suggested that that wasn’t the case.

“I know you are. I’m Magnus. It’s a _pleasure_.”

Alec barely heard what he was saying because he was too distracted by the way the man’s lips curled invitingly over the words. He mumbled back one of the inane polite greetings he had been repeating for the past few hours without really thinking, a dumb smile creeping across his face as he stared gormlessly at the man.

However, thankfully, before the conversation could go any further, something clicked in Alec’s mind. The name, the impeccable style, the makeup… Alec’s smile slid away along with any positive emotion he had been feeling.

“Wait – Magnus, as in Magnus _Bane_?”

The man, Magnus, gave an exaggerated bow. “The one and only.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked incredulously. “How did you get _in_?”

“I think you’ll find that I was invited, I’m not some kind of gate crasher.”

Magnus seemed affronted as he produced a piece of white card from the inner pocket of his blazer but the smirk never quite left his face as he handed it over for Alec’s inspection.

Alec studied the invitation as his mind raced. Magnus Bane’s name was _dirt_ in the Lightwood household – worse than dirt, even, after he almost sunk his mother’s career. Maryse Lightwood campaigned to be mayor four years ago on the promise that she would clean up New York’s alcohol and drug abuse problems. She was pretty vocal about her dislike of nightclubs and the fact she believed that they ruined society.

Bane owned Pandemonium, a popular club in Brooklyn that was at the forefront of Maryse’s crusade. She had argued that his establishment was den of drunken debauchery and underage drinking: he had replied that she was a terrible mayor and an even worse person, except in slightly more colorful language. The press loved him, and the public thought he was hilarious, and the more he spoke, the lower Maryse’s poll numbers dropped. Their war lasted the entire campaign and at the end Magnus was triumphant and Maryse Lightwood humiliated and forced to fight for her life in the election. She won by the skin of her teeth despite the Democrats fielding an under-qualified Californian.

Bane was never spoken about amongst the Lightwoods due to equal parts loathing and fear. However, as far as Alec could tell, the invitation was real so he handed it back grudgingly.

“Who gave it to you?”

Magnus tapped the side of his nose. “I have my secrets, Alexander.”

Alec stiffened at the use of his full name which even his parents rarely used. He put his glass on the bar, barely touched as he took a few steps back.

“I’m going now. I have things to do.”

“What things would they be?”

Damage control, mostly, but Alec wasn’t about to say that, so he simply stayed silent and gave Bane as civil a nod as he could manage before leaving.

“But I thought we were getting on so well!” Magnus called at his back as he quickly skirted around groups of people, trying not to make it appear as if he was running away as he ran away.

When he was certain Magnus hadn’t bothered to follow him, he slowed his pace to a more socially acceptable speed and started looking for Jace or Isabelle. Preferably Isabelle. He had a feeling if Jace knew that Bane was in the building he would do something very embarrassing and politically ill-advised, like punch him in the face. The one trait that marked Jace out as not-a-Lightwood was his lack of diplomacy – he was more an ‘act now and fuck consequences’ kind of person. Isabelle, on the other hand, would know what to do, but he had to find her before their parents caught sight of Magnus because then all hell would break loose.

Unfortunately, Alec hadn’t taken his god-awful luck into account as he formulated his plan to save the night; when he finally found Isabelle, she was standing a group consisting of Jace, their parents, a senator, and the Governor of New York.

“There he is!” Isabelle called as soon as she saw him lurking.

Maryse turned and gestured him over with quick hand movements. “Alec! Where have you been?”

Alec felt slightly ill as he joined his mother, knowing that any moment Bane might arrive and ruin it. “I was caught up in a conversation” - that wasn’t a lie - “I didn’t realise I was needed, I’m sorry. Hello Senator, Governor.” He shook hands with the two men.

“Your father was just telling us about your future plans,” Governor Morgenstern said. “By the sounds of it, it won’t be too long until we’re all at one of these for you.”

Alec laughed politely and resisted the urge to fiddle with his cuffs, clutching his hands so tightly behind his back that his fingers started to ache. “Hopefully, sir. But not for a few years still, I think I need a little more real world experience before I dive into politics.”

“A wise move,” the Senator said. Alec had momentarily forgotten his name. “You can’t hope to be a good representative of the people if you know nothing about them.”

He caught a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye just as his mother said something to take the heat off him, thankfully. He looked to the side but couldn’t see anything apart from the sea of black jackets and evening dresses. As he turned back to the group Isabelle caught his eye and frowned and him. He tilted his head to the side slowly and glanced to a quieter corner of the room.

“If you’ll excuse me and Alec for a moment, we’ll be back in a second,” Isabelle said, not waiting for a response as she grabbed his wrist and pulled him away.

“Izzy,” he reprimanded as they walked, “that was rude. I was hoping you’d do something a little more subtle. _And_ you left Jace with them so he’ll be pissed that he’s missing out on the fun.”

She perked up with interest. “We’re going to do something fun?” Alec’s expression apparently didn’t answer that with an affirmative because her enthusiasm fizzled and she took a sip of her champagne “Whatever. You looked desperate, I thought it might be serious. What’s up?”

They had relocated to edge of the ballroom, it was out of their parents’ sight but also meant that Alec had a very limited view of the hall in general and so it was impossible to keep track of where anyone was. He supposed there would be a horrified scream if his mother noticed Bane.

“I ran into Magnus Bane at the bar. He got an invitation somehow.”

Isabelle’s reaction wasn’t as surprised and panicked as he expected. Instead she took another drink and looked at him critically.

“You had a conversation with him?”

“Briefly.”

“What did you talk about?”

Alec stared at her suspiciously: her calm spelled trouble but he couldn’t work out why.

“Not much,” he answered slowly. “He came up to me, we introduced ourselves, I asked to see his invitation and then I left.” He left out the fact Bane had bought him a drink because it wasn’t relevant and Isabelle would definitely read something into it.

“Oh, how boring. Magnus is usually so much more fun than that.” She tossed her head back, finished the last of her drink and dropped the champagne flute on a nearby table in one smooth motion.

“Izzy…” Alec trailed off as he realised what had happened. “ _Isabelle. You_ invited _Magnus Bane_ to mother’s fundraiser?!”

He tried to inject his voice with as much righteous anger as he could, but Isabelle didn’t seem phased.

“Yeah, Pandemonium’s a _great_ club and Magnus is an influential guy. Mom needs to get over what happened between them.”

“And you thought the best way of helping her ‘get over it’ would be to _secretly_ invite him to her _fundraiser_?”

Alec had been wrong: Isabelle had even less political sense than Jace. Maybe they were _both_ adopted.

“It’s really not that big of a deal, Alec.”

“ _Not a big_ -” Alec cut himself off as a man in a blue suit stepped into view. He cursed the number of eyes following the extravagantly dressed stranger who clearly didn’t belong in this group of people; there was no way to hide Magnus’ presence from mother, the gossip would get back to her in an hour, tops.

“And what are you two doing hiding in a corner? It took me a while to find you,” Magnus asked as he approached.

“Alec was panicking,” Isabelle said and Alec barely resisted the childish urge to kick her in the shin, only because there was no way to do it subtly. “You look great.”

Forget it, Jace was his favourite sibling from now on and Alec was going to go to him with all of his political problems. It would have been better if he had just punched Magnus in the face if that meant the end of this peculiar and misguided friendship.

Magnus was busy inspecting Isabelle, holding her at arm’s length as ran his eyes critically down her body.

“And you look stunning as always, my dear. You put the rest of the room to shame. Except for you, of course,” he tacked on with a glance towards Alec, who glared at the both of them. Izzy rarely let compliments go to her head, seeing as she got so many of them, but she was practically swooning as Magnus let his arm fall from her shoulder.

Of course, he was right; Isabelle did look stunning in her emerald green gown. Stood next to Magnus, the two of them looked magnificent, and as eye-catching as a peacock. In comparison, Alec’s plain black suit (slightly wrinkled from the suitcase) seemed far too informal. He tugged at his cuffs self-consciously.

“Well, my dearest, I just came to say goodbye. I must be off.”

A small protest left Isabelle’s mouth but he silenced her with a kiss on her cheek.

“I feel I’ve outstayed my welcome. Next time you should both come to one of _my_ parties so I can show you how real people have fun. Thank you so much for the invitation, my dear.” He winked at Alec, adding, “I’ll see you soon.”

“In your dreams,” Alec said irritably.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be in those tonight, darling.”

He swanned off, leaving Isabelle giggling as Alec blushed and spluttered furiously.  


* * *

  
The next morning it became clear that the news had definitely reached Maryse that Magnus Bane had been at her party.

When Alec came down to the sitting room he found Isabelle and his mom already there. Isabelle shot him a pained look when he walked in, indicating that the diatribe Maryse was currently giving had been going on for a while now.

“Did you hear?” she snapped when she spotted Alec loitering in the doorway.

He sat down at the table covered in mountains of paperwork. “Hear what? What needs doing this morning?”

Maryse pointed at a freshly printed press release. “If you could read that through – the person who wrote it clearly needs to be fired and re-enrolled in high school. And did you hear that Magnus Bane was somehow invited to my fundraiser last night?”

God, it was too early for this. Alec hadn’t even had a chance to grab a coffee yet.

“Ah. Yes, I did hear rumours about that.”

“Yes, well, now that’s all anyone wants to talk to me about today. I know as soon as I’m done reading that statement, all the questions will be focused on _Bane_. It’s like we’ve gone back eight years.”

Alec slid into the chair as she continued to complain. The press release was simply a thank you letter to the donors who had attended the fundraiser last night as well as a paragraph specifically thanking Governor Morgenstern for his support and endorsement, but it was riddled with typos. Alec assumed the staffer must have written it last night before they were allowed to sleep.

“I can’t believe his _audacity_ to show up at an event like that. And them for him to spend the evening skulking in the corners out of sight so I would to deal with the fallout. Everyone thinks I _purposefully_ ignored him! It’s just cowardly. That’s all you can expect out of him and people like him: cowardice.” She made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “Really, I thought I was done with all this for the rest of my life.”

“Mom, really though, what does it actually _matter_?” Isabelle asked when she had a chance to interrupt.

She had the day off from her residency and was making full use of it by lying in the living room in sweats, with her hair scraped away from her face. She some work balancing on the arm of the chair but she was far more invested in her phone.

Alec rolled his eyes as Maryse took a deep breath. Isabelle had walked right into that lecture.

“It _matters_ , Isabelle, because now I will be _dragged_ into the issues of New York’s nightlife by the press, something always leads to dropping approval ratings. I thought that I had finally escaped it but now reporters will want to know if the hatchet has been buried or why only Bane was invited and none of the other club owners. If I tell the press what the public want to hear, it’s usually the opposite of what the donors want to hear because there were a number of them talking to me about that damn First Amendment Defense bill last night. So, instead of talking about the economy, what this campaign is _based around,_ we’ll be diving into the underage clubbing fiasco and anti-discrimination.”

“But you support anti-discrimination laws?” Alec knew he shouldn’t bring himself into this debate but he had to ask.

“Yes but openly supporting someone like Bane takes it to a new level, and I need donors more than I need the support of the gay pride parade.” Maryse’s tone became more patient as she sensed an opportunity to turn this into a teaching moment. “You’ll need to learn how to walk the tightrope when you campaign, Alec. It’s all well and good supporting anti-discrimination bills in New York City but you need to keep in mind your future: if I want to run for the Senate, I need to look further than the city. Support from men like Bane isn’t going to get me onto the Budget Committee, is it?”

“No,” Alec answered hollowly, keeping his eyes on the press statement he was redrafting. He could feel Isabelle staring at him but he didn’t look up.

“It may be disingenuous but it’s how the system works. And once you’ve been in it long enough, you’ll learn how to succeed.” Her cell phone rang. “I’m going to get a coffee while I deal with this,” she said and walked into the kitchen as she answered.

Alec still didn’t look up as Isabelle came and sat at the table with him. He continued dutifully reading and editing the piece in front of him, carefully scribbling out the awkward, clunky phrasing of whichever staffer had written this at four o’clock in the morning.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

When he spoke, his voice was rough. “You should be. You shouldn’t make decisions like that without talking to me first, not when you don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“I wasn’t thinking about Mom when I invited him, Alec, I was thinking about you. I know it turned horribly but I know how much you hate those events and all the people who go, and how _fake_ it all is. I swear I was just trying to do something nice for you.”

“Yeah, well, in the future, _don’t_. Clearly you don’t know me if that’s what you thought was best.”

“Alec, I know you better than anyone,” she said meaningfully. “I don’t like how you’ll have to live if you follow this stupid career path Mom and Dad want you on. You’ve been _one_ day and we’re already at this point. You heard how Mom was talking about Magnus and ‘people like him’ just now!”

“ _You_ don’t like it?” he repeated incredulously. “Isabelle, this is _my_ life. Mom’s campaign, politics, those stupid fundraisers, they’re all _my life_ , and I don’t care if you think I should be living it differently – it’s not your choice. Your meddling is going to make everything worse. In fact, you’ve already fucked it up!”

Isabelle went very quiet. She stood, grabbed her phone from the armchair and left the room without a glance. Alec was too worked up to feel guilty for raising for his voice at her; his pen was shaking in his hand as he tried to focus back on the speech.

“Where’s Isabelle?” Maryse asked when she came back a few minutes later.

“Don’t know, she just left.”

Maryse sighed but didn’t pursue it any further, she set a cup of coffee next to Alec’s elbow.

“I found Lydia Branwell’s card, by the way. You left it in the kitchen,” she said as she slid it across the table along with the coffee.

Alec knew for a fact that he hadn’t left that in the kitchen, it had been in his jacket pocket. Which meant his mother was desperate enough for this to happen that she was rifling through his clothes. He drummed his fingers on the table, looking at the small rectangle of card, considering it.

After a few moments of indecision, he picked it up with a quiet huff and entered the number into his phone, along with a brief text. His mother said nothing, but she was smiling as they got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to come chat to me on [tumblr](http://sophisticatedyetslutty.tumblr.com)!


	3. Chapter 3

Isabelle maintained a frosty silence for the rest of the week. This was an impressive feat considering she spent nearly every waking moment at her forensic pathology residency and so was barely ever at home to give Alec the cold shoulder.

As guilty as he felt, Alec refused to apologise first. He may have reacted badly and he knew that he shouldn’t have raised his voice, but it wouldn’t have happened if Isabelle hadn’t been an idiot in the first place. If she didn’t stop trying to interfere in his love life then it was only a matter of time before Alec’s career was over and everything was ruined.

On Friday night, Alec could hear faint music coming from Isabelle’s room as he reached their landing after a late dinner. It was a classical piece rather than one of the bass-heavy playlists she put on when she was getting ready for a party, so Alec assumed she had work to do which was preventing her from going out. At least it wasn’t just Alec with no life, for once. He glared at the closed door before retreating into his room, gaining a little bit of satisfaction as he slammed his own loudly.

He collapsed into bed with a sigh, staring at the ceiling for a long moment before rolling onto his side and upturning his briefcase onto the empty side of the bed, reaching for his laptop in the messy of array of papers. He might as well get ahead of the weekend work seeing as Jace had bailed on their plans to go out for drinks and catch up. He’d said something about forgetting dinner with Clary’s mom – Alec hadn’t really paid attention past the initial cancellation and the crushing disappointment of facing another night in alone in his bed.

He had never been a socialite: he’d always left that up to Jace and Isabelle. Alec tagged along to whatever they were going to and was on good terms with their friends but he had never had his own circle. Not that he’d particularly wanted one either. He’d made college friends who he met up occasionally with if they were in the same city, and in Boston he could rely on his colleagues to provide the social interaction he needed as well as his frequent skype calls home, and that was enough for him.

Until now, when he sat on his bed in his work clothes at nine o’clock on a Friday evening, the only social interaction he could find being his emails. Now, the isolation felt permanent and inescapable.

He grimaced at his laptop screen, trying to banish the depressing thoughts, but only managed three terse replies before admitting that they weren’t going anywhere any time soon. He dropped his laptop onto the floor with a sigh; clearly, he was in no mind to do anything other than sulk, so productivity could wait until tomorrow.

His phone pinged with a text alert.

_Hi Alec. I’m having a few drinks at The Institute bar with a couple of colleagues this evening. I know this is short notice, but feel free to stop by._

It was from Lydia. They had exchanged a few messages since Alec had initially reached out after the gala. He had a feeling Lydia’s parents had mentioned him to her because she didn’t seem unnerved by a total stranger getting texting her out of the blue. She seemed pleasant enough, as far as Alec could tell from their succinct conversations.

However the initial resentment at Isabelle’s behaviour that had spurred him to text Lydia had long since waned. Without that anger, the recklessness, thoughtless decision-making had been replaced by the cool logic which usually controlled Alec’s life and, logically, Alec knew that he would rather be single for the rest of his life than pretend to love a woman, no matter how much it would please his mother or benefit his career. When he forced himself to consider the broader picture than just his feelings, he knew it was selfish to lead Lydia on just for his own political gain.

But he still found himself hesitating as he reread the text.

Lydia seemed nice and they had mutual interests; friendships had been built on less. And Alec had spent the last half an hour sulking because he was lonely, so this seemed to be a perfect opportunity to make a friend that was just his. It was a group thing, too, so there wouldn’t be any pressure to make it into an official date. Besides, it wasn’t as if Lydia would be expecting a relationship just because the texted for a week and then met for drinks once.

_And if she did…_ Well, Alec could cross that bridge when he got to it.

He changed out of the shirt he’d been wearing all day and to a slightly nicer button-up and grabbed his favourite black sweater that was hanging over the back of a chair. A quick glance in the mirror showed that he looked a little worn around edges, but a splash of water on his face and a spritz of cologne could probably hide that.

He got to the bathroom as Isabelle was leaving. She had clearly just showered – her wet hair hung limply, darkening the shoulders of her pastel pink dressing gown into mauve patches. They both paused, staring at each other warily for a moment.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Out for drinks.”

“With who?”

She didn’t explicitly say _you don’t have any friends_ , but there was a clear implication in her tone which made Alec bristle.

“No one you know,” he said stiffly. “What are you doing this evening?”

“Nothing. I’m assisting an autopsy tomorrow morning.”

Alec nodded, wondering if he should extend the invitation to her, but she left him in the hall before he could make up his mind, walking to her room and shutting the door loudly.

He sighed and left her to it.

* * *

The bar Lydia had picked was one of those new start-ups that had exploded in New York since Alec had left. From the warm glow of the Christmas lights on the walls, to the mismatched barstools and artistically faded wooden panelling on the front of the bar, it was the kind of place that attracted every twenty-something yuppie in a five-mile radius. It wasn’t too bad though, the music volume was low and there was room to move in-between groups of people.

The woman he assumed was Lydia Branwell was sat at the bar with a couple who were probably her co-workers, judging by their formal attire. They were in deep conversation and Lydia was frowning at whatever her female colleague was saying, the expression making her look fierce and intimidating. They had clearly just come from work, the man was wearing suits and Lydia and her other female colleague were dressed in long skirts and blazers. Alec felt distinctly underdressed in his slacks and faded sweater.

“Lydia?” Alec asked as he approached. The conversation stopped as they looked over to him, Lydia’s eyes lighting with interest as her gaze flicked down Alec’s body.

“Alec, nice to meet you,” she said, standing up. There was an awkward moment where Alec went in for a handshake and Lydia bent forward to kiss his cheek, causing Alec to punch her softly in the chest, but she brushed off his apologies with a brusque wave. “These are my colleagues, Harry and Aline.”

“Hi there,” the man said, getting to his feet and shaking Alec’s hand. “We were just about to head off though. We’re supposed to be in court tomorrow morning so we need some sleep.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.” That meant Alec would be forced to socialise just with Lydia, which wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. “Good luck with your case.”

“Thank you. See you tomorrow, Lydia,” he said on his way out followed by Kristen.

Alec took the newly vacant barstool and ordered a beer.

“You’re not working on the same case?” he asked.

She shook her head and frowned, causing the lines on her forehead to deepen even further. Alec wasn’t sure if this was her natural expression, if it had been a particularly stressful day, or she just wasn’t a fan of Alec’s company, but it was quite off-putting.

“No, Aline and Harry have been working at the firm for years now so they get the fun cases: I’m still getting given the grunt work.”

“You work at Simpson, right?” Alec checked.

“Yeah, selling my soul to the banks,” she said, smiling sardonically. Simpson, Thacher and Bartlett was one of the main corporate firms on Wall Street: it was the kind of job that most lawyers would spend their lives aspiring too, and Lydia strolled right in after graduation. He could see why his mother was so eager for them to meet.

“It’s worth it though. If you nail one case then you’ll get hired by any other law firm in the country.”

“Why do you think I took it?”

“Well, I can’t imagine the money’s too bad…” he suggested.

Lydia actually laughed then, her frown lines disappearing. She was far less intimidating when she smiled, her entire face softened, two deep dimples appeared in her cheeks, and the soft glow of the Christmas lights reflected the startling blue of her eyes…

Objectively, Alec could see that she was beautiful. He should be pining for her, texting Isabelle to ask her the best ways to flirt with a girl, and yet all he could muster was a professional curiosity about whether the large pay check made financial litigation any less boring. He couldn’t be entirely certain, but he was pretty sure Jace didn’t start thinking about the nuances of art theory about when he looked at Clary.

“I can’t say that didn’t factor in my decision,” she admitted. “Was that how they persuaded you to move to Boston too?”

Alec laughed along. “I went to wherever would take me, we can’t all just wander into internationally ranked corporate law firms, can we?”

Lydia answered with something appropriately self-deprecating and their conversation bounded forward. They talked about their favourite cases so far, bickered a little over whether Yale was better than Columbia, and then realised they had more in common than a career.

They compared living in New York to living anywhere else in the world. Alec hugely preferred New York to Boston and couldn’t imagine permanently living anywhere else. Lydia, it turned out, had spent six months studying in Vienna and before moving onto Lisbon which she had loved.

“If I could speak better Portuguese I probably would have stayed there forever,” she admitted, the wistfulness clear in her tone.

Alec gulped down her stories of travelling. He’d seen large swathes of the US, but those were usually restricted to his parents’ work trips where they would visit the state’s capital, take some pictures, and then fly home. No matter what his parents had told him as a child, he would never consider going to Topeka, Kansas, a proper vacation. Apart from that, he had only been on one other trip: a memorable (in which no memories were actually made because of the amount of alcohol) vacation to Mexico with Isabelle and Jace because they were finally eighteen and Alec had been at college for two years but hadn’t gone on a ‘proper’ spring break. In comparison, Europe was a dream Alec had always wanted that seemed to keep getting pushed back further as life demanded more and more from him.

It was getting late, the clock hands edging closer to midnight, when conversation moved to their family. Lydia talked a little about being an only child, then Alec talked a lot about growing up with Isabelle and Jace’s introduction into the family when he was twelve.

“So, speaking of family, was it your parents or mine who talked you into this?” she asked, after Alec had finished his story about how Max dealt with three vastly older siblings. He gave her a quizzical look and she laughed. “I’m just asking because I haven’t had a conversation with my parents where you haven’t been brought up since Saturday. I was wondering if they’d been that insistent when you met.”

Alec hummed in agreement, nodding along slowly.

“Your mother was the one who suggested that I get in contact, but my Mom’s been nagging me at every possible opportunity since then… Not that I don’t want to be here,” he tacked on at the end when he realised how it sounded. “I mean, you seem nice, I’m not saying that meeting you is a chore or anything.”

Lydia laughed again and waved her hand. “No, don’t worry, no offense taken. I’ve been single for the last two years and I haven’t heard the end of it. My parents seem to think that because I’m twenty-three and not already engaged, I’m destined to be a childless spinster for the rest of my life.”

“My mother basically said I’m unelectable unless I start dating,” Alec admitted.

Lydia clicked her tongue and feigned disappointment. “Damn, I just invited you here under the impression that you’re on your way to being the next President. Clearly, if you’re unelectable, there’s nothing for me here… Such a shame, I was looking forward to being First Lady.”

Alec nearly choked on his beer.

She was joking, right? It seemed like she was, but her smile had disappeared, leaving her stern expression that Alec found impossible to read. So much for crossing that bridge when he got to it: apparently one week of texting and a few beers was enough to start discussing lifelong relationships nowadays. It didn’t seem like a normal conversation, but then, what would Alec know? He hadn’t been on a date in years.

Even with the bile rising in his throat, Alec’s political training kicked in and he managed to ignore his internal panic.

“You think I’m going to be President?”

“Are you not?” Lydia raised an eyebrow. “You’re a Lightwood after all – you’re all born to do politics. Haven’t you had at least one family member in Congress for the last fifty years?”

“Did you research my family history?”

Lydia shrugged. “I like to know things. Besides, it’s not hard when half of your family have their own Wikipedia pages.”

A silence fell between them as Alec thought about that revelation. Realistically, he knew what his mother was hoping when she introduced him to the Branwells at the fundraiser – she hadn’t exactly been subtle about it. But the knowledge that Lydia had invited him here with the same knowledge made it far more awkward.

Lydia had also been drawn into her own thoughts. Alec hadn’t noticed until she sighed and announced, “Look, there’s no way to say this politely, but I’m not interested in dating you.”

Alec just gaped at her for a second. Lydia was so unsettlingly forward that conversing with her was unlike talking to anyone else. It was also unnerving when she just leant against the bar and silently regarded him, waiting patiently for an answer instead of expanding on her point.

It was like he was a witness being questioned on the stand.

His initial reaction was to want to blurt back that he definitely wasn’t interested either, but thankfully he managed to keep his mouth shut long enough to think of something better to ask – something that would actually get him a useful answer.

“Alright, what do you want from this then? I mean, _you_ invited _me_ here.”

She shrugged. “I need someone to get my parents off my back. I mean, my father literally forwarded me the r _é_ sum _é_ of a guy who was applying to his company today and said I should contact him. I want that to stop but I don’t want you to think there’s anything else.”

“Oh, well, luckily for both of us, the last thing I need right now is a girlfriend. I wanted my Mom to stop nagging at me…” He hesitated for a moment and then added, “And someone to meet for drinks occasionally. I can’t just talk to my family every day for the next three months: I’ll go insane.”

“Just friends, then?”

Alec nodded.

“Do you mind if I exaggerate the extent of our relationship to my parents, though?” she checked.

“God, no, not at all. I’ll be doing the same anyway.”

“Good.”

They talked a little more about their parents, but it was clear that both of them were fading as time ticked by and so when they had finished their drinks it was time to leave.

“This was fun,” Alec said. With a small ounce of surprise, he realised what he was saying was actually true. Lydia was good company and they had a lot in common; for once, he hadn’t been staring at his watch the whole evening.

“Not as bad as you were expecting?”

“Definitely could have been worse,” he agreed. “You could have been serious about wanting to be marry me, for instance.”

Lydia laughed. “That would have been a memorable date at least. Would you like to meet later?”

“I’ll text you later in the week once I know my schedule, and we can arrange something?”

“Sounds good.” Just before they parted ways, Lydia added, “Let me know what Maryse’s reaction is when you tell her we actually met. I want to compare it to my mother’s to find out which one of us has the more psychotic parents.”

“Will do,” he promised.

* * *

Maryse was, as expected, over the moon when Alec mentioned the next morning that he’d met Lydia for drinks. She became even more ecstatic when he said that he’d had a good time and were planning on meeting up again.

An unanticipated bonus was that his mother didn’t even complain at Alec for not having touched his emails in twelve hours – something that would usually have warranted a full hour-long lecture. Instead, she just let him know that some kind of flu had spread through the whole campaign staff and headquarters were effectively under quarantine, so the healthy ones would be based in their living room for the time being.

He recounted all this to Lydia by text as he climbed the stairs to his room on his way to fetch his laptop. Halfway up, he ran into Isabelle. She was dressed smartly with her hair pulled up into a sleek ponytail and her hospital ID card hanging from a bright purple lanyard. Her lab coat was folded over her arm. They both avoided eye-contact as Alec pressed against the wall to give her room to squeeze past.

He drummed his fingers on the bannister, considering saying something but she vanished out of sight before he had a chance to think of anything. Anxious disappointment welled up inside him, a deep, uncomfortable pit formed in his stomach as he listened to her storm down the staircase. Isabelle had too much practice holding grudges, even though it was _her_ fault, Alec thought mutinously as he continued on his way.

In the two minutes it took to reach his room, he was in a foul mood. He glared at the stacks of papers whose unfinished state seemed to be taunting him. Then, just to make it worse, his phone vibrated in his hand with yet another unread email, demanding his attention within the next ten minutes. In a fit of frustration, he threw it onto his bed childishly, before collapsing on top of it and groaning into a pillow.

He was a grown man, for hell’s sake; he should be better balanced by this point in life. Adults were supposed to be able to deal interpersonal relationships and emotions in constructive ways.

His phone’s frequent buzzing forced Alec to pause his moping and acknowledge the increasing amounts of work he had to do. With a sigh, he heaved himself off the bed and to his desk. There was a lot to do - his mother was eager to have a rally but persuading the public to give up their evening to listen to a local politician speak was not easy, particularly when the only available date on Maryse was Halloween.

Maybe that was what adults usually did – focused on work and simply ignored their problems.

Alec could do that.

He pushed his hair off his forehead as he read through the new problems they had run into in the last half an hour (the stories about why Magnus Bane had been invited to the fundraiser had yet to die down; the hall they were planning to rent for the Halloween speech was now being rented for a haunted house, limiting their choices to a ridiculously expensive hotel ballroom or a dilapidated school gymnasium; and the Governor had gone back on his promise to give a short introduction speech). All manageable things, if you had a full campaign team to fall back on rather than a handful of volunteers who threatened to throw you out of the house if you so much as sniffled.

He spent a little while googling how long people remained contagious after having the flu and calculating the risk of forcing staffers out of their beds and back to their desks, before methodically working his way through the panicked emails of a very junior staffer who had been promoted so many times in the past twenty four hours that he was now one of the most senior people on the team. Alec had his doubts about the guy’s capabilities, which were only confirmed when he seemed to forget which party he was campaigning for.

By lunchtime, he was feeling remarkably better. He’d sent the staffer a very detailed, bullet-pointed list of things he could do that would be helpful, such as reading through all of the Bane stories that had been published in the last week and working out their common themes, and hadn’t heard from him since. He’d then consulted with Maryse about the possibility of replacing the Governor with his father – though he was only a Representative, he was still recognisable to the kinds of people who went to mayoral rallies, and it added a nice family element. That meant liaising with his father’s PA to find a way to fit the rally into his busy schedule, which took about half the morning but Alec only received three insults from the PA, which was better than usual. And finally, he’d called Jia (who had answered the phone despite sounding like she was on her deathbed) and agreed that the gymnasium would look fine once they strung a few banners and blew up some balloons.

All in all, he was feeling far more positive than a few hours ago.

His mood improved exponentially when the front door opened and slammed shut and Jace sauntered into the kitchen, for once Clary-free.

“Hey!” His eyes zeroed in on the sandwich Alec was constructing. “Make me one too?”

Alec threw a piece of bread at his head. “Make your own, douchebag.”

Jace didn’t bother, instead chowing down on the plain bread slice as Alec watched in disgust. “That’s no way to treat a guest.”

“I’m more of a guest than you are,” Alec pointed out. “To what do I owe the honour of your company?”

“I just came to hang out, I feel bad for ditching you yesterday,” he said with his mouth full. Alec plated his lunch and took the seat next to Jace, who immediately snagged half the sandwich.

“Oi,” Alec protested half-heartedly. “Also, you know that I’m technically at work right now, right? I can’t just hang with you in the middle of the day.”

Jace shrugged. “It’s Saturday, you need some time off. Just skip.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll leave it to you to explain to mom. Besides, I ended up going out last night anyway so you shouldn’t feel guilty.”

That statement received an inquisitive look from Jace. “Who’d you go out with?”

“A girl that Mom’s been trying desperately to set me up with. She was actually pretty cool.”

“You had to go on a date with a girl because I ditched you? That makes me feel worse, actually.”

“It wasn’t a date – it was just drinks. Her co-workers were there.”

Jace ate the sandwich in silence for a moment, apparently digesting the information. “Are you going to see her again?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, it was fun. And you’re busy with Clary all the time, and Isabelle isn’t talking to me at the moment, so…”

This, apparently, was the real reason Jace had come over, because he actually put down his (well, Alec’s) sandwich.  

“Why are you and Izzy fighting exactly? She’s refusing to tell me anything.”

“It’s nothing.”

Jace raised an eyebrow. “I mean, you can _say_ that, but you both look like you’re sucking on a lemon whenever I bring it up. And if it’s nothing then it doesn’t hurt to just tell me.”

He slid out of his chair and over to where Alec was sitting, wiping his finger through the splotch of mayonnaise that had dripped from his sandwich earlier and sucking it into his mouth.

“Tell me,” he whinged into Alec’s ear, accompanied by a sharp poke to Alec’s ticklish sides. He jerked away, the touch startling an involuntarily laugh out of him as he tried to escape Jace’s interrogation tactics. As always, he cracked within seconds: he’d never been good at keeping secrets from him.

“Okay, okay, mercy!” he laughed breathlessly. “I just got annoyed at her for constantly getting involved in my career decisions and she got offended. And _yes_ , I know that I didn’t express myself very well but I still think that she’s the one who should apologise first, her meddling in the campaign is way worse than me snapping at her.”

“ _Wait_ ,” Jace said, exaggerating the _a_ sound as he stared at Alec disbelievingly, “are you seriously telling me that you’ve been pissed with her for a week just because she invited Magnus Bane to Maryse’s fundraiser?”

Alec glared at him and glanced nervously towards to the wide open doors, hoping that their conversation wasn’t carrying in the temporary headquarters.

He scolded, “Don’t go around _yelling_ about it. How did you know it was Isabelle who invited him?”

An anxious knot was curling in Alec’s stomach as he ran through the potential explanations that Isabelle could have given Jace as to why she invited Bane and whether any of them would hint at Jace about her ulterior motives.

Jace, as far as Alec knew, didn’t know anything about Alec’s love life other than it was non-existent. Jace seemed to assume that was because Alec had always been so awkward around girls. Not that it would be the end of the world if Jace _did_ know. It used to be a secret because of Alec’s embarrassing crush but _thank God_ , he’d grown out of that. But still, Alec liked Jace not knowing; after all, the fewer people who knew, the smaller the chance of his parents finding out.

Also, if Jace did ever find out and then somehow connected the dots and realised Alec used to have a crush on him, Alec would never hear the end of it.

“She told me after because I wanted to know why Maryse was freaking out so much. I’d hoped it was one of my genius plans. Gotta give her credit, it annoyed her _way_ more than any of the pranks I’d been pulling,” Jace explained.

Alec let out a relieved breath, which he managed to play as a disappointed sigh.

Jace’s grimace suggested that he wasn’t so keen on the idea that Isabelle was better at winding up their mom than he was. Causing mischief was usually his speciality with occasional cameos from Alec and Isabelle.

“Yeah, well, it interfered with the election and that’s not okay. It’s my career, Jace.”

His complaints were dismissed with a wave and an eye roll.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m on your side” – and didn’t _that_ feel good to hear? Alec’s stomach did a little celebratory flip – “I’ll talk to Iz about it, but contrary to what you believe, it wouldn’t actually kill you to occasionally lighten up and some have fun.”

“I have fun,” Alec muttered defensively.

Jace outright laughed at that, but there was no malice.

“You’ll have to prove it to me. Next weekend? Boys’ night? I’ll tell Clary and Isabelle to fuck off, only men are allowed.”

“They’ll kick you in the balls if you say that to them,” Alec pointed out.

Jace laughed, joking back, “I’ll wear a codpiece; I think I could rock one, don’t you?”

He thrusted grotesquely in Alec’s direction, so Alec threw a slice of cheese at him and tried his best not to grin foolishly at the antics. His eyes crinkled as his lips turned up at the corners; a few strands of hair was falling out of its coif, looking effortlessly casual. Alec couldn’t help but respond in kind, his smile giving his mind permission to momentarily escape the dour mood he had been in.

Jace’s phone ringing obnoxiously loudly ruined the moment. “Ah, sorry, it’s Clary, I should…”

Alec waved off the apologies. “I should get back to work anyway, this has been a way longer lunch than I’d scheduled for.”

“And _that_ is why you aren’t fun,” Jace said just before he answered the call and wandered out of the room.

“Well, bye to you too! Use your manners!” Alec yelled after him, the reply being a middle finger as Jace trotted out the front door.

* * *

By Monday, things were slowly getting back to normal. The majority of the team had recovered so Alec didn’t have to direct inexperienced staffers any more. Most importantly, Jia was back at the helm and said Alec should take the afternoon off seeing as he worked solidly through the weekend.

He celebrated by meeting Lydia for lunch.

As soon as he mentioned to his mother where he was going, he was allowed to go an hour early. While that was nice, it did mean that he was at the restaurant thirty minutes earlier than he’d organised and their table wasn’t ready yet, so Alec had to kill time at the bar.

He entertained himself with more work while he waited for Lydia. This mostly consisted of browsing local news outlets in case that junior staffer had let a story slip by that would come back to bite them. Fortunately, he appeared to be familiar with all of the issues the media was currently fussing about. Unfortunately, none of them were good for the campaign.

First and foremost, of course, were the stories about Maryse Lightwood’s strained relationship with New York’s nightlife. The rumour mill had been steadily churning solidly for the last week, ever since the Bane incident. Maryse’s strategy of ignoring it until it went away didn’t seem to be working, especially when club owners and alcohol suppliers were all too eager to complain to the press about the unfair treatment they’d received. A particularly annoying journalist had spent several days analysing the effect of Maryse’s policies on Manhattan bars compared to Brooklyn clubs, arguing that she clearly favoured Manhattan and this was representative of her opinion towards all of Brooklyn.

Someone joined Alec at the bar as he neared the end of that article, choosing a seat right next to Alec despite the long line of empty bar stools. Alec pursed his lips but didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t be there long anyway, and so making a scene would be pointless.

In fact, he didn’t even look up from his phone until a familiar voice said, “Oh, I read that article too. Very insightful.”

Alec’s head shot up, meeting the gaze of a very smug Magnus Bane. He was twisted in his seat so that he was fully facing Alec, one arm resting on the top of the bar.

“I particularly liked the point she makes about the whole tax policy being exemplary of Maryse Lightwood’s wider disdain of poorer New Yorkers.”

“You know it’s bullshit,” Alec disputed.

“The numbers don’t lie.”

“The reporter was biased and didn’t bother disclosing that taxes were placed on the alcohols provided by clubs that are popular with underage people – it’s not about being rich or poor.”

Bane shrugged. “Maybe that’s the case, I wouldn’t know. Maryse hasn’t said anything on the topic. It’s hard to understand both sides of the story if you’re only being given one.”

He was dressed casually today, but still impeccably stylishly. A small part of his brain, that Alec viciously hated, wondered whether Magnus had his clothes tailored or whether he just looked that good in anything. With a flush of embarrassment, Alec realised that he had let his gaze wander from Magnus’ face down his body. He diverted his focus to his phone, hoping he wasn’t actually blushing.

“Let’s not talk about politics, Alexander, although I do enjoy how riled up you get. How have you been?”

“How about we not talk at all?” he suggested pleasantly. “You’ve already caused enough problems this week without the press thinking that we had some kind of clandestine meeting in a restaurant.”

“Clandestine?” Bane laughed. “Darling, if I were trying to be clandestine with you, I would pick somewhere far more romantic than here. And a little less full of people.”

Alec decided that the best way to reply to that was to pretend nothing had been said.

“How’s Isabelle?” Magnus asked as the silence stretched on. “I haven’t seen her this week.”

“She’s working,” Alec said shortly. He glanced towards the door and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Lydia handing her coat and umbrella to the maître d’ at the door.

“Hey, sorry I’m so late,” she said as she approached. She looked as professional as last time, her hair pulled back into the perfect ponytail with not a strand free, despite the fact that New York had decided it was going to celebrate fall arriving with nonstop rain and a gale-force winds.

Alec stood to kiss her cheek, grabbing his jacket quickly. “It’s not a problem.”

“Is this a friend of yours?” Lydia asked, looking at Magnus, and then introduced herself before Alec had a chance to correct her.

“Magnus Bane. Charmed, my dear.”

Alec spoke before it could turn into a proper conversation, ushering Lydia away from the bar. “Let’s see if our table’s ready yet.”

“Lovely to see you, Alexander. Hopefully we’ll run into each other again soon,” Bane said.

Alec hummed in response, not wanting to give a concrete answer. As they walked away, Alec could feel the weight of Bane’s eyes on his back. He resisted the urge to tug at his sweater to make sure it was hanging correctly. Thankfully, the maître d’ smiled at them as they approached and led them to their table, which was located in a separate room to the bar.

“Who was that?”

“Public enemy number one,” he grumbled. Seeing Lydia’s blatant confusion, he expounded, “He’s just caused my mother a load of problems because he owns a club and she’s been trying to clean up the city. And now he’s apparently expanded his interests to annoying me as well.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll make sure to arrive early from now on so you don’t end up in that situation again.”

Alec smiled at her. “Thanks.”

Still, before he looked at the menu, Alec took a second to email his mother and Jia saying that he thought it would be a good idea to make some kind of statement about how much they valued all nightclubs and were working towards protecting the interests of all New York citizens, regardless of where they lived. _People aren’t going to know that there are two sides to this Bane story unless we give them the other side_ , he pointed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was entirely scrapped in the editing process and rewritten from the ground up. The first draft was 4000 words, and I thought the rewrite would be way shorter, but here we are. 
> 
> I’m also now hoping to follow a weekly posting schedule. Updates should be up every Sunday.
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments so far, I love knowing that people are looking forward to this story! 
> 
> As always, if you want to know anything about the fic and what’s to come, come chat to me on [tumblr](http://sophisticatedyetslutty.tumblr.com)!


	4. Chapter 4

Alec’s strategy of dealing with the Bane stories by actually responding to them worked well: the press finally had a response and got off their backs a little, and Maryse’s poll numbers started to recover from their demoralising nosedive. Though they still weren’t great, walking into campaign headquarters felt a little less like walking onto death row nowadays.

Additionally, it had an unexpected bonus of being promoted to a job with a real title, rather than the all-purpose assistant slash occasional legal advisor he had been previously. The promotion came with assurances from his mom that very little would change in terms of workload, it just meant that he would have a fancy-sounding position to sign off emails with.

As it turned out, she was lying through her teeth.

Alec had only been the deputy communications director for five days, but his sleeping schedule had already been reduced to around four hours a night. It turned out that when you had an official position in a campaign, you were expected to complete all of your own work in as well as anything that other the volunteers couldn’t handle. And, as Alec was quickly learning, the vast majority of the Lightwood’s campaign staff were recent political science graduates with a degree but not a shred of common sense, and there was very little they could actually do competently.

Therefore, although Alec was gaining experience in leaps and bounds, his personal wellbeing was suffering. The dark circles under his eyes felt like they carved into his skin; he could barely remember what his reflection used to look like without bloodshot eyes; and he had a constant headache that thrummed gently just behind his eyes. He developed a new a habit of never sitting down in meetings after too many embarrassing moments where he started dropping off half-way through. Distressingly, he found that his tolerance to caffeine was becoming increasingly strong and his hands started shaking if it had been more than an hour since his last cup.

It was probably the exhaustion that caused Alec to forget to set his phone to silent before passing out on top of the comforter, still wearing his work clothes, on a Friday night. This was a problem when someone texted him a couple of hours later. There was loud _ping_ followed by a vibration that was amplified by the wooden surface, jolting Alec suddenly from his sleep.

Even with his eyes closed, Alec knew the room was too dark for it to be morning yet, which meant that he had absolutely _no_ intention of getting up. New York could be burning down around his ears, and Alec would not move from his bed before the sun rose. Not today.

He rolled onto his back and kept his breath steady. If he just pretended to be asleep long enough, whoever it was would stop texting him, and he’d be able to lie in until at least six o’clock.

_Ping_.

_Ping_.

_Whoever it was would eventually get the hint_ , Alec told himself.

_Ping_.

When his phone went for a fourth time, he cracked an eye open and groped around on the bedside table, wondering if he could throw it across the room with enough force to make it shut up.

He winced as it vibrated in his hand and the screen lit up as a fifth message arrived, the sudden blue light the dark room making his eyes water.

The display told him it was just gone three o’clock in the morning. Underneath the time was a list of texts – four from Isabelle and one from an unsaved number. Isabelle’s texts had arrived in rapid succession and were riddled with so many typos that Alec’s sleep-addled mind could barely understand them.

The fifth one read:

_If this isn’t Alec please disregard this message. If it is, please come to Pandemonium to pick up your sister, she needs help getting home. Sorry for the inconvenience._

Alec groaned and covered his face with his hands.

The darkness under his palms was a relief. His body attempted to use the respite from the light as an opportunity to push him back towards sleep, but the visions of the things that could be happening to Isabelle, intoxicated and alone in Brooklyn, stopped him. He didn’t recognise the number who had sent the last text, but his brain did a great job providing a variety of unpleasant, dangerous characters who might be looking after her.

It was those thoughts launched him out of bed and out the door.

At least he’d fallen asleep in his clothes, he thought as he grabbed his wallet from his desk and stuffed it into a pocket. All he had to do was take his coat from the hooks by the front door and he was ready to go.

While he stood on the sidewalk waiting for a cab, he texted the unknown number back.

_I’m on my way, I’ll be there in 15._

Manhattan was as quiet as it could be. The streets were largely empty except for a few partygoers stumbling to the next bar and some homeless vagabonds tucked into doorways, ignoring the world as they tried to sleep. Alec hailed a cab easily, ignoring the driver’s small talk in favour of leaning his head against the window and letting his tired eyes blur the street lights into stripes of amber and white.

His headache, which accompanied him in every waking moment like an awful sidekick, was back already, worsening his already dismal mood. This was a particular problem as they arrived in Brooklyn and were greeted by the shrieks and laughter of drunkards alongside a feint pounding bass that got louder as they drove up to the doors.

If someone had asked him to describe the demographic Pandemonium was attempting to target, Alec would have been hard-pressed to summarise it in a sentence.

There were kinds of people that Alec was used to seeing in the clubs he was dragged to in college. These were scantily-clad girls in six-inch heels who sipped from hip flasks that they tucked in their bras, who were being chatted up by guys whose shirts were unbuttoned halfway down to their navels. They congregated in large groups as they waited in line, chatting and laughing obnoxiously loudly and drawing annoyed side-eyes from their neighbours. But these groups were a small species in a larger habitat.

There were groups who were dressed as if they were attending a nineties rave, covered in glitter and tie-dye. A couple of people looked like they were waylaid on their way to Woodstock with their floor-length dresses and flower crowns. There was every hair colour under the sun – sometimes all on one person. A large number of people who were wearing such weird outfits that the only conclusion Alec could draw was that they were celebrating Halloween two weeks early. Some people looked like they were going to some kind of sex party, wearing leather costumes that were covered in straps and buckles. Alec tried not to stare at those ones.

To give Bane credit though, everyone appeared to be at least twenty-one.

The bouncer sneered at Alec as he clambered out of the taxi and approached him. He understood why: it would take some serious arrogance to assume that you were important enough to skip such a long line.

“Hi. I’m, um, Alec? I’m not trying to jump the line, I swear, I’m just here to pick up my sister. I got this text…” he explained warily, scrambling for his phone to show to the bouncer.

It was unnecessary though, because as he was talking someone yelled, “Alexander!” from inside the dingy hallway that separated the outside world from the thudding music. Alec peered in and recognised Magnus Bane who gestured to the bouncer to let Alec through.

Magnus was dressed quite conservatively compared to most of his patrons. Alec laughed at the bizarre situation - what was the world coming to if _he_ was describing a blazer with rainbow details and nothing underneath as _conservative_?

“Mr. Bane,” he greeted cautiously as he approached. “Were you the one who texted?”

“Yes, I took your sister upstairs while waiting for you but please” – he flashed a radiant grin – “call me Magnus, Alexander.”

Alec would later blame the fact that he smiled back on the headache and his general confusion.

“Where’s Isabelle then?” he asked, forcing his expression back to his usual scowl.

“Right this way.”

He led Alec to a staircase hidden behind the ticket booth. A girl with dark skin and curly hair watched them with mild interest from behind the desk.

“So, you’re Isabelle’s elusive brother?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“Are you less annoying than the other one?”

“Definitely,” Bane answered as Alec tried to work out an appropriate answer. “And even if he wasn’t, he’s pretty enough to get away with it.”

Alec spluttered as the girl sniggered, but was pushed up the stairs lightly by Magnus so he missed her reply.

“You know Jace?” he asked as they ascended the steps.

“Sadly, yes. He was here earlier.”

They came to a large room that resembled a living room crossed with an expensive waiting room. Every piece of furniture was white, black, or made from glass. There were stylish photographs of New York City landscapes framed on the exposed brick walls. Everything was impeccably clean. It was the kind of New York apartment which would cost millions, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Alec could feel the floor vibrating from the club’s music right below. It reverberated through his feet and into his skull, making him wince.

“Do you live here?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Magnus laughed. “Of course not. Despite my devotion to my business, I value my beauty sleep too much. It’s merely a place for meetings, and to be a knight in shining armour to impress pretty boys…”

He trailed off as he gestured to one of the low white couches. On it was Isabelle, passed out and tucked under a blanket. There was a bucket next to her on the floor which was thankfully empty. Alec didn’t want to have to deal with getting her into a cab if she was vomiting everywhere.

“Izzy?” he asked and shook her shoulder gently. “Iz, you need to wake up.”

Her eyes blinked open slowly and stared at him with unfocused eyes. It took a long moment for the spark of recognition to appear and when she spoke, her words were slurred.

“Alec? What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you. Do you know why Jace didn’t stay with her?” He directed the question at Bane as he tried to manoeuvre Isabelle’s arm over his shoulder to get her to sit up. She misinterpreted what was going on and pulled him down in a clumsy hug.

“He left with his girlfriend – I got the impression that he believed your sister could look after herself.”

Alec was going to throttle Jace. And Clary, if he could get his hands on her too – Jace used to be reliable until she came along. He attempted detach Isabelle’s arms from around his shoulders but the girl had a grip like iron.

“Do you need help?” Bane asked but Alec grunted a negative, heaving Isabelle into a sitting position.

The movement proved to be too much, too soon.

She managed to gurgle an, “ _Oh no_ ,” giving Alec just enough time to leap out of the way, so the vomit only landed on his shoe instead of his pants. Unfortunately, it also missed the bucket Bane had put out and splattered across the rug instead.

Magnus made a repulsed noise in the back of his throat while Alec took a deep breath through his mouth.

“Sorry,” Isabelle whimpered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

When he could trust himself to speak without yelling, Alec repeated her apology to Bane. “I’ll pay for the cleaning. Do you have a cloth or anything I can use for now?”

Magnus waved his hand. “I have a cleaning crew for the club and an excellent drycleaner, all who are very used to mopping up after drunk people. Don’t worry about it.”

“Sorry,” Isabelle repeated, her shaky voice making her sound so weak and upset that Alec’s tired frustration drained a little.

He sat next to her, carefully avoiding the pool of vomit, and pulled a pack of tissues out of his pocket that he’d taken to carrying around with him, as well as a little bottle of hand sanitiser. He’d seen the effect of the campaign flu, and it was better to be safe (and a little paranoid) than sorry.

“Don’t apologise, it’s okay. It happens,” he said as he carefully wiped his sister’s mouth clean, as well as a strand of hair that had got in the way.

He glanced up and realised that Magnus was watching him look after Isabelle, his head tilted to one side with an inexplicably soft smile on his face. Alec frowned at him. It wasn’t really a situation to grin at.

“Why are you smiling?” he asked accusatorially.

Bane shook his head and said, “Nothing,” but he didn’t stop.

Alec scowled and turned back to Isabelle, who was starting to slump against his shoulder, her eyes falling shut. Alec shook her awake, being careful to be gentle to avoid jostling her delicate stomach again.

“Come on, Iz, stay awake for me. I need to get you home somehow.”

“I live across the road,” Bane announced.

Alec frowned at him and cocked his head to one side.

“Good to know?”

Magnus added slowly, as if explaining to a child, “We should take Isabelle there, because what she clearly needs right now is some sleep and I doubt you’ll find a cab willing to take her anywhere in this state.”

Alec opened his mouth to argue but a glance at Isabelle silenced him. She was swaying gently despite being sat down and her pale skin was slightly gray. Every time she exhaled there was a whiff of stale vomit. Bane had a point.

_But_ if he took Isabelle to Bane’s apartment, he would be forced to leave her there or stay over too. If he left, he would be an awful brother and he wouldn’t be able to lecture Jace without being a complete hypocrite. However staying meant spending the night at the apartment of the man who had almost destroyed his mother’s career single-handedly – and the man who wouldn’t stop _staring_ at Alec.

Either way, he knew that he didn’t have a choice when it came to Isabelle. There was no way he could get her in a cab: any driver would take one look at her and laugh in his face.

Magnus was watching him closely. Alec sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes.

 “Alright then.”

He let Isabelle slump back as he stood up and threw his coat over her shoulders to protect her from the cold air. Getting her to stand up was a whole other challenge. Her stiletto boot heels looked impossible to balance on even when sober, and as soon as she was upright she started leaning dangerously far forward.

Alec heaved another sigh as he realised there was no hope of getting Isabelle to walk on her own.

“Iz, don’t you dare puke again, I’ll never forgive you,” he warned, as he carefully picked her up like a child, cradling her to his chest. He looked at Magnus over Isabelle’s shoulder. “You’ll probably need to hold the bucket close to her.”

Magnus looked down at his outfit and back to the bucket with a grimace.

“Fine, but just to let you know, I’m going to protect myself over you. This is an expensive jacket and, as handsome as you look in it, that sweater is hideous. It’s probably for the best if it gets covered in vomit and you have to throw it out.”

Isabelle giggled, her head lolling against Alec’s shoulder as he stuttered some more and then blushed at his lack of composure. It was embarrassing that even Isabelle seemed more poised than him in that moment.

 “I- Hey, it’s not- I like this sweater,” he eventually managed to say. “It’s one of my favourites.”

Magnus looked physically pained but let it slide, picking up the bucket gingerly and holding it at arm's length towards Izzy.

Maia turned in her chair to watch them make their way back down the stairs. Alec could imagine it was quite the sight: Bane walking in front but backwards so he could hold the bucket close to Isabelle, who was making little gurgling noises each time Alec took a step. As they reached the ticket booth, Bane paused to talk to her while Alec navigated his sister through the door without hitting her head on the frame. He heard a snippet of their conversation about getting in contact with the cleaners before Isabelle drew his attention by tapping his cheek lightly.

“I’m sorry.”

He knew he desire to yell at her about her terrible decision-making was just residual worry about her, and so he resisted the urge. This definitely wasn’t time for a brotherly telling off: that would be tomorrow.

“Don’t worry about it, Iz. Not like you planned it.”

“No, meant sorry for the other thing.”

Alec held her a little more tightly. “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“I just want you to be happy. You’re a good brother…”

He glanced over at Magnus, who was still talking to the girl behind the counter. When he looked back down at Isabelle, her ears were a lot clearer and more calculating.

“What?” he asked her.

“Nothing.”

Her eyes darted over to Magnus and she smirked a little at Alec before resting her head back on his chest.

Alec scowled. If he wasn’t pretty sure it would end badly – with at least one of them covered in sick – he would have done something mean and petty, like dropping her on her face. Instead, he filed it away as something to mention tomorrow during his lecture. Right now, it was four in the morning, he was exhausted, and he wanted nothing more than to be in bed right now.

“Ready to go?” Magnus asked cheerily.

Alec grunted, and aimed Isabelle’s head towards him as they left Pandemonium.

It turned out that Magnus was being very honest when he said he lived across the road because he led them to an apartment block directly opposite the club. He guided them into the elevator and to the top floor. Alec wasn’t paying particular attention to their surroundings, however, because he was too preoccupied with the strain of carrying Isabelle for so long. Despite being small, she was a dead-weight in his arms.

Bane’s apartment, however, demanded all of his attention the moment he stepped over the threshold.

The room was a riot of colour and experimental interior design. Every plain surface had been decorated with something; the black couch had a rainbow crocheted folded on the arm and a line a of throw cushions, each in a different bright colour. The lampshades were large paper lanterns in various shapes and sizes. There was even a tie-dye hammock chair hanging from the ceiling in one corner of the room.

Alec supposed that it might have worked in a bohemian kind of way, but it definitely took his eyes a few moments to adjust.

Bane had paused by the door as if he was waiting for something, so Alec had to pause in the doorway for a few moments to think of something to say.

“This is…” he searched his mind for a description that was true yet not insulting, “colourful,” he settled on.

It seemed to be enough, because Magnus sniffed and said, “I hope it inspires you to branch out from black sweaters and boring white shirts. My bedroom is through here.”

The bedroom was just as… _vibrant_ as the apartment. He pushed the lime green cushions to one side of the bed as he set Isabelle on the bed, wondering if the colour was offensive enough to keep her awake – it would certainly burn through Alec’s eyelids.

It seemed like Isabelle was too drunk to care, however. Before he’d even let her go, she was fast asleep. Alec carefully untied the laces on her ridiculous shoes and set them on the ground. She didn’t stir even as he tugged the comforter out from under her and tucked it over her shoulders, like he remembered his mother doing for them when they were young.

Magnus had already gone back to the living room and was sat on the couch when Alec joined him. He’d switched the television on, and was flicking through the channels with the volume turned down, eventually settling on MSNBC where a talking head was chattering about the day’s news.

A thought suddenly occurred to Alec as he was shutting the bedroom door.

“But where are you going to sleep?”

Magnus raised an eyebrow and patted the couch cushions. “Don’t worry about me, Alexander. I’ve passed out on this sofa many times, it’s very comfortable.”

Alec had a suspicion that he was lying – the couch looked like the kind of furniture that was purchased for aesthetics rather than comfort – but he didn’t call him out on it.

“Thank you,” he said, hoping that the sincerity was clear. “This is really kind. When you don’t need to be… I appreciate it.”

“I’m not the malicious, heartless villain you’ve been led to believe?” Magnus said with a wry smile. He continued before Alec could reply. “It’s really not a problem, Alexander. I genuinely like your sister and I wouldn’t leave _anyone_ alone in that state.”

“Well, still. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome to stay as well. You can take the bed if you want to risk being thrown up on, otherwise I’m sure you could persuade me to share the couch.”

He shouldn’t: Alec knew he _really_ shouldn’t. He had work in mere hours and, oddly, he realised that he trusted Magnus to look after Isabelle. There really wasn’t any reason for him to stay, and many reasons for him to leave.

But there was something that made him nod and say, “Thanks, I might take the risk. Isabelle will probably want me to stick around so she has someone to go home with, distract our parents while she sneaks in… That kind of thing, you know.”

“Of course. Can I get you a drink?” Magnus offered.

“Water would be great, thanks. And some advil if you have any spare.”

Magnus returned with water, as well as a glass of wine for himself. He set them on the coffee table and, to Alec’s shock, unbuttoned the jacket. He didn’t take it off but it hung open, revealing a strip of abs and pectorals that Alec had to tear his eyes away from. He grabbed his water and stared at the ripples instead of that chest that looked like it had been carved by Michelangelo.

However even when he wasn’t looking, there was a clear picture in his mind, like his brain had taken a picture and was waving the Polaroid around gleefully. The carved muscles and v-shaped lines that sloped down promisingly, hair except for a faint trail of black hair that started at his navel and disappeared under the waistband of his jeans…

Alec blushed, realising that his gaze had strayed again, and busied himself with a sip of his water.

Magnus was watching his face carefully. “I can put something on if you’re uncomfortable?”

Alec shook his head but couldn’t make eye-contact. His whole body felt hot.

“No, it’s fine, it’s your home. So, um, how did you meet Izzy?”

“She has friends who enjoy my club so she started coming. Obviously I had to make sure she wasn’t spying for your mother and when it was clear she wasn’t, we became friends. She likes that I let her skip the line every week.”

“Every _week_?” Alec repeated incredulously, not having realised that Isabelle was such a regular patron, and then asked, “Who are her friends?”

He wracked his brain for anyone who would potentially have convinced Isabelle to go clubbing so often. Possibly Jace, but he had been wrapped up with Clary for the better part of the year now and apart from that, Isabelle’s closest friend was Alec.

“Oh, no one you’d know by the looks of them. Far too alternative.”

“How do you know I don’t have alternative friends?”

Magnus gave him a pitying look. “My dear, even if I didn’t know what party you were campaigning for, everything about you screams conservative.”

The insult stung Alec, even though he couldn’t dispute it. After all, he knew that there was a t-shirt in his wardrobe at home that his parents had given him for a birthday, with a picture of the Republican elephant on it and a pun that read _I’m always RIGHT_. While he’d only worn it once (at his mother’s insistence) he also hadn’t thrown it away.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing?”

“I’m sure you’ve been in politics long enough to know there’s a fundamental difference that can’t be overcome between conservatives and liberals.” Magnus smiled wryly. “Liberals are good people, for example, while conservatives…”

“Are also good people,” Alec finished firmly. “My parents aren’t devoid of morals just because they want lower taxes.”

“After my working relationship with your mother, I’m not sure I agree on that point – but I’ll make an exception for you. You seem like a nice Republican.”

“I’m n-” Alec trailed off, his tired brain catching up just in time to stop any more words from leaving his mouth. There were some secrets that he hadn’t shared with anyone yet, not even Isabelle. “Let’s agree to disagree.”

“Yes, let’s. Politics bores me senseless; we should be talking about more interesting things… Tell me about _you_ , Alexander. I don’t know nearly enough.”

“Uhm, there’s really not much to tell.”

“Now I don’t think _that’s_ true.”

Magnus dropped his wine glass back onto the coffee table. The movement wafted the scent of his cologne over Alec and he glanced across at the other man.

Alec was very aware of Magnus’ eyes trained on him and so tried not to look any further down than his mouth, but the way he was relaxing into the couch cushions put his whole body on display for Alec’s perusal and he couldn’t deny that he wanted to look. He was reclining against the armrest so he was facing Alec. He had thrown one arm over the back which pulled his jacket further open, meaning his entire chest was practically on show. He was resting his other hand on his stomach, his long fingers grazing across his skin absentmindedly. 

He wanted to do more than _look_ , in fact, his hands itched to reach out caress the exposed skin, find out whether it felt as perfectly smooth and soft as it looked. His palm also sort of itched to slap that stupid smug smirk from his face because it suggested that Magnus knew _exactly_ what he was doing to Alec right now.

It didn’t scare him the way it should, though, the fact that Magnus _Bane_ of all people might have guessed that Alec wasn’t as perfect as he pretended.

Alec wracked his brain for something he could say but it was difficult to focus with those amber eyes staring at him so intently.

“Um… Honestly, I’m not that interesting. Grew up in New York, went to Yale, then Harvard Law,” Alec still felt a flush of pride as he said those names, “and now I work for a law firm in Boston. I come down occasionally to visit Izzy and Jace and help my parents out with their campaigns, obviously.”

“Impressive.”

Alec shrugged and tried not to convey how proud he was of all that he’d accomplished.

“But this isn’t a job interview, tell me _interesting_ things about you. Surely you have some skeletons in your closet…”

He shifted closer. By this point, Magnus was sat in the middle of the couch, one leg stretched out on the floor so his foot was barely inches away from Alec’s. There were only a few inches of empty air between them and any time Alec looked in Magnus’ direction it felt as if the air was crackling with tension.

“Not really any skeletons. Occasionally when I was younger I ditched school with Jace, and there’s one spring break that I don’t really remember but that’s about it...”

“What about your girlfriend? How did you meet her?”

Alec frowned. “Girlfriend?”

“The blonde woman you were having lunch with the other day.”

“Oh, Lydia. She’s not my girlfriend… Well. Not really. It’s complicated. Our parents introduced us,” he said, as if that explained anything.

Magnus was frowning at him like it explained everything. There wasn’t any judgement in that expression – it looked more like sympathy.

“She seems nice.”

“Yeah, we get on. It’s nice to have a friend in the city.”

Magnus hummed and sipped his wine. He didn’t say anything more, letting them lapse into silence which Alec would have been fine with if it didn’t mean that he had nothing to distract him from his thoughts of Lydia and the way that he couldn’t _stop_ looking at Magnus.

“So, no girlfriend, no fun stories, no skeletons that you’re willing to admit to me yet… This is all very dull, Alexander.”

“I told you so.”

He yawned deeply. The apartment was warm and the soft lighting wasn’t helping Alec keep his eyes open.

“I’m keeping you up.”

“It’s fine,” Alec said around his yawn. “I don’t sleep much anyway. What about you?”

“It’s Friday: I’m usually not in bed until the sun rises.”

Alec resisted the urge to check the time, knowing that it would be depressingly close to sun rise. Magnus was lulled into silence, his attention captured by the TV. Alec stared at the screen, unable to pay attention. His thoughts were sluggish and incoherent and his vision kept blurring over.

The small, logical part of his brain told him that he should get up and join Isabelle in bed, but it was too quiet to listen to. He fought the exhaustion as long as he could, but eventually he let his head tip back against the couch cushions as his eyes slid closed. The quiet chatter from the television and Magnus’ even breaths beside him soothed him to sleep like a lullaby.

* * *

He woke up to a sharp poke in his shoulder. Isabelle was standing over him with her eyebrows raised, wearing his coat and a wide smirk. She was carrying her boots in her hand.

It took a second to remember that he was in Magnus’ apartment, on the couch in his living room where he fell asleep. In the next second he realised that at some point during the night he had slipped down so that he was lying with his face in Magnus’ lap.

His cheek was resting just above the waistband of his jeans, his shoulder’s bracketed by Magnus’ legs, enveloping him a comforting warmth. (Alec could now confirm that Magnus’ skin _was_ as smooth as it looked, and he was sure that that knowledge would haunt him forever.) One of his arms was hooked under a leg and he realised with embarrassment that he had been cuddling it in his sleep. The humiliation only worsened when Magnus’ hand, which was curled in Alec’s hair, twitched and sent shivers down his spine.

Well, that explained Isabelle’s smile.

“Help?” he mouthed.

It looked for a moment like Isabelle was going to refuse for her own pleasure, but she thankfully gently picked up Magnus’ arm and lifted it an inch so Alec could wriggle out. Magnus slept soundly through it all.

As he stood, he straightened his sweater and shirt which had been pulled up above his belly button at some point of the night. He ignored Isabelle’s smirk as he picked up his shoes and jerked his thumb towards the front door. At some point in the night, Magnus must have turned the television off and the silence in the apartment was deafening.

“What?” Isabelle whispered. “Don’t you want to say goodbye?”

“No, I’ll… Well, I’m sure you’ll run into him later.”

“Come on, why don’t you want to talk to him?”

“Izzy, this is _not_ the time.”

“Alec...”

“Isabelle, don’t- let’s not get into this right now. I have to get back. I have a job that I’m supposed to be at already. I can’t wait for… for any of this,” he whispered hotly and gestured towards the couch, glancing at nervously at the same time to make sure that their argument hadn’t woken Magnus.

Isabelle glared at him but gave in wordlessly.

Before they left, Alec went into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of paper, scrawling a quick note to Magnus to tip whoever had to clean up after Isabelle and left it on the counter folded on top of a hundred dollar bill. Isabelle was waiting by the door but she didn’t protest as Alec ushered her out quietly.

He didn’t let himself glance back at Magnus as he left. He couldn’t let a night like that happen again without a normal amount of sleep: he didn’t trust himself when he wasn’t fully in control. He shut the door behind, careful to let it slam.

It didn’t take long for them to hail a cab and they didn’t talk until they were inside on their way back to Manhattan.

“So, what happened with you and Magnus last night?”

“I should be asking you that,” Alec replied drily, “seeing as the only reason I was there was to look after you.”

Isabelle rolled her eyes. “It happens to all of us sometimes,” she brushed off.

“Iz, seriously, I was worried. If Magnus hadn’t been there to look after you what would have happened?”

“Well the plan was for Jace and Clary to be there.”

“Oh, I know that and I’m going to talk to him about it later,” Alec said grimly.

Isabelle laughed but when she put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, she was serious.

“Thank you for coming last night, Alec. And I’m so sorry about what I said last week - I only did it for you, because I want you to be happy, but I get that I shouldn’t interfere. And I won’t anymore.”

She was staring at Alec with wide eyes. Her makeup was still on from last night, but it had smudged badly, and she had pulled her greasy hair up into a messy ponytail. She looked like a mess, but the way her brow was furrowed and her lips were turned down ever so slightly at the corners made Alec’s cold heart melt a little. Alec had always been a pushover when it came to that look and she knew it.

He groaned at himself for giving in so quickly but he had really missed his sister in the last week and he pulled her into a crushing hug. She returned it immediately.

“Now, tell me what happened with Magnus,” she demanded the second he moved back.

Alec rolled his eyes. “I thought you weren’t going to interfere anymore?” he pointed out drily.

“I’m not _interfering_ , I’m just asking about the fact I found you cuddling with him this morning.”

“We talked, mostly about you, and then I fell asleep because I was tired. I guess he did the same. And we weren’t _cuddling_ – cuddling implies it was on purpose.”

_That’s the truth_ , he told himself sternly _, that’s all that happened_. It had just been a straightforward, if very peculiar, night. Alec had come out of it the same as he went in.

There was no way that Magnus Bane, of all people, could change Alec’s opinion in one night. He couldn’t convince him that he was a good person with one conversation. Alec was in New York to dedicate himself to politics, and that was all he was interested in, most definitely _not_ a certain club owner. It certainly wasn’t the case that his thoughts kept wandering back to Magnus’ apartment every few minutes, reminiscing on the feeling of waking up in someone’s arms, hearing their heartbeat under his ear…

And, even if any of that _was_ happening, Alec would get over it. If he had managed to get over his silly crush on Jace, he could forget a man he had only met three times.

“That’s dull,” Isabelle said, breaking his reverie.

Alec shrugged. “I don’t know why you’d expect anything different from me.”

“I don’t expect – but I hope.”

Isabelle let the subject drop and they talked about her pathology residency for the rest of the drive – she liked sharing the gruesome details to try to get Alec to squirm, even though Alec was a criminal lawyer and had already seen these kinds of things. When they got home, Alec went first and checked that the coast was clear so Isabelle could run upstairs to avoid a lecture from their parents, as he’d done so many times before.

He realised as he followed her to the third floor to shower and change that the headache and anxious knot in his stomach that had been his constant companions for weeks now were gone. He left his door open and listened to Isabelle swearing as she tripped over something on her floor, the curse words crystal-clear through their open doors.

He smiled. Things were back to normal.

Just before he went downstairs to start his day, his phone buzzed.

_I gave Tessa the tip, she says you’re much more thoughtful than most of the club’s customers._

_You should stay for breakfast next time xxx_

He stopped in the middle of the stairwell, glaring at the messages. His thumb hovered over the ‘Add New Contact’ button. _This is nothing,_ he reminded himself gravely, _don’t make this into a big deal_.

He slid his phone into his pocket and went to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is a week late! Trust me to set a schedule and then break it immediately. I blame it on a new job, a wedding, an overcrowded train, and a horrific hangover. Hopefully my life has settled into enough of a routine now that I'll be able to get Chapter 5 up on Sunday.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! :)


	5. Chapter 5

The flu epidemic had finally passed through enough of the staffers that HQ had been deemed habitable again, and the space was buzzing with life as Alec worked his way slowly through his list of jobs. Staffers rushed from place to place, dropping cups of coffee at desks as they stopped to chat to colleagues. The steady hum of voices was frequently punctuated by bursts of boisterous laughter.

“How’s the news treating me this morning?” Maryse asked, pausing by Alec’s desk on the way to her own office.

Alec had carved out his own work space in the midst of the mayhem, warning anyone who tried got too close to stay away with a glare and a nameplate that announced he was a Lightwood as well as the Deputy Director of Communications. He was making efficient use of the desk space by covering every inch of it with New York City’s newspapers, as well as some articles and blogs that he’d printed off. Annamarie, the Director of Communications and his new boss, had laughed at him when she saw them, and asked if there was something wrong with his computer. (There wasn’t, Alec just enjoyed highlighting things.)

“Fairly well,” he said, scanning across the headlines once more, flicking through the print-outs to find the one he was looking for. “This one in the Post comparing yours and Aldertree’s policies on K12 spending is particularly complimentary. We should bring more attention to schools in your next interview.”

Maryse took the article from Alec and skimmed it, her lips twitching at the corners with satisfaction.

“I assume you’ve already that seen your poll numbers are up two points as well?” Alec asked and her smile widened.

“Yes, I have – it’s going to be a good week, I think.”

Alec laughed as his mother walked into her office, Jia following on her heels. He turned back to daily morning task of monitoring the news and what was being talked about social media. Reading the political opinions of the uninformed public was usually Alec’s least favorite job, but it was brightened that morning by the governor of New Jersey having done something stupid over the weekend and so the people’s ire was focused on him.

Jia came to him after she had finished talking to Maryse, interrupting his perusal of Buzzfeed with a judgemental frown.

“It’s the political section – we need to keep in touch with the younger generations,” Alec defended, refusing to acknowledge the fact he was reading an article that was more making fun of New Jersey than discussing anything relevant to the mayoral campaign.

“Do you have a minute to spare, or are those memes vital for the day’s work?” she asked.

Alec meekly closed the browser.

“Thank you. We just need to go over the plans for the rally so you can start convincing journalists to give up their Halloweens to spend an evening with us in a cold gymnasium that has a rodent problem. Do you reckon you’ll be able to persuade them in a month?”

“Seeing as it’s less than a month until Halloween now, it doesn’t sound like I have a choice.”

Jia smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Try get ones who actually like us to come, please.”

Annamarie chose that moment to interrupt by sticking her head out of her small office and calling Alec in. Alec gave Jia an apologetic smile as he stood up and she rolled her eyes.

“Come to me when you’re done and we’ll go through it,” she said as Alec made his way to Annamarie.

“Did I interrupt anything?” his boss asked, tucking a stray blonde curl back under her headband.

“Just Jia asking me to start working on getting reporters to the Halloween rally.”

“Why does she think that’s necessary? Journalists are going to get sent out to cover it anyway.”

“I think we just want to make sure we get a good group of them,” Alec said, trying not to step on any toes.

The moment Alec had started reporting directly to Annamarie, it had become apparent that the woman was pissed off by Maryse’s decision to give the top job to Jia. It gave her a tendency to hoard responsibilities and she became incredibly territorial if she thought Jia was trying to take away on her power. Seeing as most of Annamarie’s power was over Alec, it meant that half his time was spent trying to appease her while still getting his actual work done.

It wouldn’t bother Alec so much if it wasn’t for the fact he liked and respected Jia far more than Annamarie; Jia seemed to recognise that Alec was a helpful tool at her disposal and so gave him interesting jobs to do. Annamarie regarded him as little better than a volunteer. (It was also the fact that both women were long-time friends of his parents and as such, had witnessed embarrassing portions of Alec’s childhood, and yet only one of them felt the need to remind Alec of that constantly.)

“Well, if Jia told you to do it then she probably thinks it’s important, but I need you to prioritise my jobs over that, alright?”

Alec forced himself to resist the temptation to roll his eyes as Annamarie dove into another list of menial tasks that he needed to check off over the weekend while she was away.

Maryse had decided at the last minute that she was going to travel to D.C. to visit Robert that weekend. This declaration had sent Jia into minor cardiac arrest as she tried to argue that there were only five weeks left until the election and Maryse _couldn’t_ leave for three days in the middle of the campaign.

Maryse had barely listened to those pleas while Annamarie added insult to injury by smugly announcing that she had been invited along by Robert and Maryse. Jia didn’t seem to notice Annamarie’s insinuation that she had more authority in this matter because she was too busy having a breakdown over the fact that _not_ only was Maryse leaving, but she was also taking the only other senior staffer with her, leaving Jia at the head of the whole campaign.

Her frustration led to Maryse eventually snapping, “Honestly, Jia, I’ll be gone two days. You’re _supposed_ to be a professional; you should be capable enough to survive without me for sixty hours.”

“And I’ll still be here – I’ve been in this campaign long enough to be useful, Jia,” Alec had added. It seemed the women had forgotten he had been sat in the room for the argument, because they had turned to him in surprise, but it helped to calm Jia down somewhat.

Because of the trip, everyone’s workload had doubled for the week as they tried to keep on top of the day-to-day tasks while planning the weekend schedules for D.C. and New York and triple-checking that everyone understood their responsibilities. Alec was pulled aside by Annamarie at least five times a day to go over his duties while she was gone (answer your emails, answer the phone, make sure none of the interns do either of those things for you because they’re idiots) and the constant interruptions meant he was permanently behind on his work.

There were some bonuses, however.

Maryse going to D.C. meant that she needed to be up-to-date with national issues and Alec couldn’t pretend not to be glad to be allowed to talk about wider problems than the New York sewage system and trash collection schedules. The highlight of the week was sitting in on a strategy session in which Maryse, Jia, and Annamarie drew up a list of D.C. people that Maryse had to meet with in order to make the most of the weekend and what she needed to know about their problems to effectively network.

“Why have you got Reps on that list?” Alec asked as he scanned the names. “No one’s going to be in D.C. on the weekend except lobbyists.”

“We’re hoping some of them are staying around to work on the healthcare bill. None of them have bothered to release their schedules yet so we don’t actually _know,_ ” Annamarie grumbled.

Alec nodded to himself and continued scanning down the list. “Oh, if you do run into Senator Landy, you can ask him how his daughter’s getting on – I met her at Yale.”

“Do you remember anything about her?” Maryse asked.

“Her name’s Maggie, she’s a couple of years younger than me so she’ll just have graduated. She was definitely doing polisci, with a minor in media communications or maybe journalism… It was something like that.”

Jia added the note next to Senator Landy’s name.

“Now, we need to prioritize: if I can only pick one, should I meet with ride-sharing developers or Verizon?”

As they debated the pros and cons, Alec’s phone vibrated, the sound amplified by the wooden desk. Without looking, he covered the screen with his palm, hoping that the motion looked nonchalant even as his heartbeat exploded into a sudden frenzy in his chest.

He didn’t let himself look at the screen until he was sure all attention was elsewhere. He lifted his palm an inch, enough to see _Isabelle_ at the top of the message, before letting his hand fall back into his lap.

The adrenaline rush wore off just as quickly as it came, leaving Alec feeling unpleasantly empty. He could still feel the blood rushing around his body as it pulse thundered pointlessly. _Not_ that he had any reason to expect any more texts from a certain someone: aside from the ones he had received the morning after, Alec had received nothing from Magnus Bane.

He didn’t even _want_ to have any contact with him. Thoughts of that strange night spent in Magnus’ apartment always left feeling confused. Just because Magnus was maybe not a total asshole like Alec had been led to believe, didn’t necessarily mean he liked the guy. And whether or not Alec liked him personally meant nothing when it came to the fact it would most probably sink his mother’s campaign if Magnus Bane got involved in his life in any way.

Therefore, the logical path would be to maintain a professional relationship with Bane whenever they were forced to interact, and ignore any wayward thought of that night – _especially_ if those thoughts happened to revolve around how good Magnus had looked shirtless.

It was _those_ thoughts that were causing him trouble: giving him anxiety whenever he got a text, messing with his head to the point where he couldn’t sleep properly because he couldn’t stop having these dreams…

 “Alec?” Maryse asked, jerking him back into the present.

“Ride-sharers,” he blurted out, firmly flipping his phone over and focusing his attention back on the whiteboard. “It’ll be your only chance to see them without flying them in from California.”

It took another hour to narrow the names down and prioritise their importance but when they finally finished, Maryse had a note on her phone with five names and Jia already had confirmations from three of them that they would find time to squeeze in a weekend meeting.

Alec pulled out his phone as they left the conference room to actually read Isabelle’s text.

_Coming out for drinks with us on Friday?_

_Maybe, have to cover mom going to DC so might be too busy_ , he tapped out as he trudged back to his desk, following it up with, _I’ll let you know how it’s going on the day_.

_In the words of your president: Lame!_

Alec rolled his eyes and didn’t bother replying, though he felt a pang of disappointment at the prospect of having to miss out on dinner with Isabelle. It had been a busy week at work for both of them, and he had barely seen her for ten minutes since the taxi back from Magnus Bane’s apartment. Even though their fight had been forgotten and any trace of awkwardness between them had disappeared, he still felt as though he hadn’t spent any time with his sister in weeks.

But he resigned himself to the fact it would have to wait another week as Annamarie called him over with an armful of envelopes and a malicious glint in her eye. He sighed and fortified himself to yet another dull task.

* * *

Alec usually accompanied his mother to HQ in the mornings: sitting in her car in rush hour traffic listening to the radio was far preferable to cramming himself into a subway car with hundreds of other tired, grumpy New Yorkers. The extra half an hour of time with her was also an excellent time for informal strategy meetings, which were worth putting up with the occasional motherly lecture for.

Sadly, the latter was apparently on Friday morning’s agenda. She turned the volume down as the radio talk show host announced he was taking a break and was replaced by a stream of adverts.

“How’s organizing the rally going?”

Alec shrugged. “Alright. I’ll need to spend a few weeks working on the Times. At the moment it looks like they’ll be sending Herondale so I need to persuade them to give us someone who _might_ not rip us to shreds the next day.”

Maryse hummed and drummed her fingers on the top of the wheel. “Do you remember Hodge Starkweather from the Bane scandal?” – she continued immediately without waiting for confirmation that Alec did remember – “He was always sympathetic. Don’t bother going through the Times, just email him separately and he’ll sort it out. Who else is coming?”

Alec listed the other names he had confirmations for and then the ones he was pretty confident about.

“Any non-journalists?”

“Yeah, there are supporters coming, I suppose.” Alec frowned. “I'm not certain though, I think Annamarie is in charge of the guest list.”

“I know, but you can still invite anyone you think would be a good fit at the event.”

“I’ll try drawing up a list and give it to Annamarie,” Alec said, despite knowing that list would probably just be Isabelle, Jace, and Clary.

“It doesn’t have to be an official invite; you can bring personal guests.”

“Okay… I’ll start networking and find people with good connections. Maybe social media influencers? That would be a good way to remind people who don’t pay attention to the news that there’s an election happening.”

Maryse raised her eyebrows and huffed out a sigh. “Alec, honestly, are you being purposefully obtuse? Invite _Lydia_.”

“Lydia?” Alec blinked.

“ _Yes._ Haven’t you been pursuing her at all?”

“Well, I mean, I think ‘pursuing’ is a strong word…” Alec argued. “We’re just friends.”

That was probably overstating their relationship seeing as they had yet to see each other since they had dinner that one time. They occasionally swapped a text to let the other know they were still busy, and that was about it.

“You need to stop being so timid and take charge. You told me you like her, so you need to make a move. Ask her out.”

Alec felt that his mother was reading far too much into what he had told her about his and Lydia’s relationship. Sure, he’d insinuated that there might be something there just to keep Maryse quiet, but he definitely had never gone so far as to say he _liked_ Lydia in that way.

Still, it was easier to dodge the topic rather than tell his mother that there was nothing going on between them.

“If I wanted to ask her out, I would probably pick something a little different to my mom’s campaign rally.”

“It’s an event that you’ve organized and shows off how talented you are.”

“I think most people would rather go to dinner and a movie rather than an exhibition of how great they are…”

“Most people are dull and ignorant: you and Lydia are not. It’ll help your relationship if you show her how much potential you have.”

“That’s not very romantic…” Alec trailed off, realizing that Maryse wasn’t willing to drop the subject. “Mom, I’m not sure I’m ready for it. She seems nice but, honestly, we’ve only meet twice and I don’t know if I want a relationship now.”

“Alec-” Maryse began, but Alec interrupted her, finally getting into the swing of a believable excuse that he could play out for a while.

“I mean, it’s my first campaign and I’m here to learn from you. I need to make connections with everyone, put in all sorts of crazy hours to prove myself and then I’ll be back in Boston by December. It’s really bad timing to try and juggle a relationship on top of all that, don’t you see?”

Maryse was quiet for a bit. It felt like Alec had won the little disagreement. They drove another two blocks, the only noise being the faint mumble of talk show host back on air and the occasional honk from the cars around them. It wasn’t until they came to a stop at a red light that his mom found her words.

And, _boy_ , were they words.

“You need to find a wife if you want to be electable and your father and I think that Lydia is as close to perfect as you’ll be able to find.”

They went another block before Alec managed to chisel his jaw off the ground as he stared at his mother in mute shock.

Maryse took Alec’s silence for an invitation to continue. “You need to get married before you’re thirty, and Lydia is a perfect choice. She’s an intelligent and very accomplished woman.”

“…I’m not going to force a relationship with Lydia because she’s got a good resume,” he said slowly, the words sounding muffled in his own ears as his brain was bombarded with a slew of images of spending his life with Lydia Branwell: moving into a townhouse identical to his parents’, waking up with her every morning, a ring shackled to his finger, having kids with her – which would mean having _sex_ with her.

He needed to think about something else or he might vomit.

“Why not?” His mother’s tone was disapproving yet casual, like Alec was fourteen and telling her that he didn’t want to go to school today.

“I want to marry someone I love?”

“You’ve said yourself you’ve only met Lydia twice: you haven’t given her a chance.”

“I can’t go on a couple of dates with her and suddenly fall in love and get married to her though.”

Maryse pulled into a parking lot and Alec was faintly surprised to find they’d arrived at work. Neither of them got out the car, though. His mother turned to face him as Alec felt cemented to the seat, trapped in this nightmare of a conversation.

“I didn’t realize this would be such a surprise for you. Your father and I agree that it’s the next logical step for you; we assumed you would have realised it too.”

“I’m too young to be thinking about marriage!” he protested.

“Robert and I got married when he was two years younger than you are now. Isabelle went to three weddings this summer. You’re not too young, you’re just not _trying_.”

“Because it didn’t enter my mind that I needed to be assessing every woman I met as a potential spouse! Who thinks like that?!”

The lines in Maryse forehead were even more pronounced than usual as she frowned deeply. “Alec, there’s no need to get so worked up about this. Lydia’s a lovely girl and you’ve said yourself that you get on. Her parents think you’re great too. I’m not saying propose to her tomorrow, but you _should_ be thinking ‘like that’.”

“Maybe you and dad should have accepted that I don’t _want_ to be married by twenty-five instead of arranging marriages for me behind my back?”

“We didn’t arrange a marriage for you.”

“So, at the gala, when Mr. and Mrs. Branwell came over and gave me Lydia’s phone number – that was entirely their idea and you and dad had nothing to do with it?”

There was a slight hesitation to Maryse’s answer. “When we were talking to them, it seemed that you and Lydia would get along well and we thought you should meet.”

“And then get married,” Alec finished for her.

There was quiet between them. Alec assumed it was because his mother didn’t have anything to left to say that wouldn’t be an obvious lie and Maryse was clearly taken aback by how vehemently Alec was rejecting of this idea was.  Alec couldn’t understand why it was a shock to her that he didn’t enjoy his parents meddling in his private life.

“Alec.” Her tone was even and measured but there was a note of genuine sincerity as she twisted in the car seat to face Alec, holding his gaze. “I clearly didn’t think about this from your perspective, and I apologize. But I need you to understand where I’m coming from. Your father and I are so proud of you: you’re everything we had hoped for. You’re successful and motivated and we know you’re capable of doing great things – getting further than Robert and I ever will. We just… We want to make sure that you have everything you need to fulfill your potential.”

Alec had run out of things to say.

He had known that, at some point in his life, this would probably happen. The profile of a perfect politician included a wife, children, and a little house in the suburbs and Alec had recognized from an early age that if he was going to claw his way to the top office in the country, he would need all of those. But he it had always been in terms of an abstract problem that he would need to deal with in the future – he’d never seriously thought about it.

The problem with what his mother was saying wasn’t Lydia. It wasn’t even the subtext of the situation sounding like an arranged marriage, that kind of meddling wasn’t particularly unexpected from Maryse and Robert.

It was that if Alec agreed with his mother right now, he would be giving up on that small part of his brain that still hoped for a slightly different future, one with a slightly different spouse.

The silence dragged on.

“We need to get to work,” Maryse said eventually.

Alec followed her robotically out the car but he didn’t wait around for her to grab her coat from the backseat as he walked into HQ and sank into his chair, staring unseeingly at the blank computer monitor.

He _really_ needed a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone who’s stuck with me for this unplanned hiatus! I feel like I owe you all an explanation…
> 
> I started writing this fic in October 2016, but very sporadically between university deadlines and so I didn’t feel confident in posting it because I didn’t have the time to dedicate to writing it consistently. I came back to it every week or so and added a few hundred words here and there, meaning that I had pretty fleshed-out drafts of the first few chapters by May, when I officially finished my course. Seeing as I had nothing to do, I decided it was time to post it and get feedback to motivate me to write more – and it worked for a few weeks. Ironically, since then I’ve had to get two jobs, meaning I work six days a week as well as having plans like weddings, unexpected house guests, and my graduation, so I have even less time to write now than I did in my final year. I’m finding it really hard to get into a writing routine which is why it took so long to get this one done.
> 
> But I’m still really committed to this fic. I love writing it, I love the characters, and I really want Alec and Magnus to get together, so I promise I’m not going to abandon it without getting in some closure for everyone. I had to add in chapter 5 from scratch because I didn’t like the flow between chapter 4 and my draft of (now) chapter 6. This is part of the reason this took so long, as well as the fact that chapter 5 was nearly all exposition for later plots and so it wasn't the ~most fun~ to write. Sorry if that's also the case with reading it. But I already have quite long drafts of 6 and 7 (which gets right on track with some real fun...) meaning that they won't take me two months to post...
> 
> And finally, thanks from the bottom of my heart to every single one of you who remembered this story and clicked to read the update. All of your kudos, comments and tumblr asks are what motivated me to get this chapter done and posted – we really wouldn’t be at the end of this author’s note without you all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's this?? an actual update?!? I know, it's a surprise to everyone, including myself

Alec was already three beers deep when the others arrived at their favorite small bar down the street from Clary and Jace’s apartment.  He was impressed that he’d managed to pace himself so well; he must have been there for a good few hours.

Any intentions to get work done that day had vanished after the conversation with his mother. Alec had stayed in the office until the afternoon, staring despondently at his desk for most of it, pretending to type whenever Maryse or Annamarie glared at him. Lunch was the first opportunity he had to leave without needing to justify it to anyone. The moment he was out of the building, he’d switched his phone to silent and walked straight to the bar and that’s where he’d been since.

He didn’t have a concept of time. He was too scared to check his phone and see the wall of text and email notifications from work, demanding to know where he was. Instead, he sat glumly at the table, peeling the label from his beer bottle and waiting for the alcohol to numb everything. It shouldn’t take long. Alec wasn’t a prolific drinker – maybe a glass or two at a social event and that was it. Any more and he tended to turn into a bit of liability. He expected three beers to start turning everything a little foggy, but the pervasive, swirling misery and hopelessness had yet to abate.

It was the lowest he’d felt in a long while.

He dropped his forehead into his palm and stared at the tabletop.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he mumbled sullenly under his breath as he contemplated every aspect of his miserable life. Could he even think of _one_ thing going for him right now that he was pleased with?

Jace’s voice forced him out of his pity-party.

“Woah, you look like shit.”

Alec raised his head to stare mournfully at his brother as he took a swig of beer. It was good the bartender had cleared the empties; if Jace had turned up to find Alec on his own, three pints deep he wouldn’t be able to avoid the inevitable intervention.

Even without the bottles, he must have looked bad enough to warrant genuine concern because Clary elbowed Jace in the ribs and asked sympathetically, “Has it been a hard week?” as they took their seats around the table.

“I don’t even want to talk about it,” Alec said.

“Dunno what you expected, man. You’ve been around Maryse in campaign-mode before, you know how psycho she gets,” Jace said, far less sympathetically.  

Alec glared balefully at him, finished his drink and caught the bartender’s eye for refill.

When Isabelle arrived with Simon in tow, she took one look at Alec and ordered a round of tequilas as well.

“What’s up with you?” she asked as she shrugged out of her coat.

“Working with Mom is starting to wear him down,” Jace answered before Alec could attempt a reply.

She clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s only, like, a month until it’s over. You can get through it, we believe in you.”

A month. In which time, Maryse expected Alec to have made progress in politics as well as fucking _marriage_. His stomach clenched along with his grip on the glass.

Isabelle’s hand was still on his shoulder and she squeezed it gently.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly. The others were too distracted pouring salt onto their palms and daring Jace to eat a lemon.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

Isabelle raised an eyebrow at him. “You think ‘ _don’t worry about it_ ’ is going to get me off your case?”

Alec did know better, and he relented. “Fine but not now – we can talk about it tomorrow,” he said as Simon passed him a packet of salt and a shot.

It probably wasn’t a good idea to involve Isabelle. She had a tendency of taking Alec’s battles and making them her own. Whenever Alec told anyone about this habit of hers, they all said she sounded like a great little sister: no one seemed to understand that Isabelle’s methods of winning wars were controversial and often made the whole situation _worse_ for Alec. If he told her about his conversation with Maryse, she would probably do something ill-advised and stupid, like emancipating herself. Then Alec would have a whole host of mediating to do between his mother and sister and… No, he didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that right now.

Jace flicked a wedge of lemon at Alec. It slapped against the back of his hand wetly and forced him back into the present, where everyone was holding their shots and waiting for him to catch up.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and tore open the salt sachet.

The sharpness of the tequila followed immediately by the bitter lemon helped take his mind off it for a moment and everyone took the opportunity to grimace and groan at the taste. Alec could work with this kind of distraction: he ordered another round for the table.

Apparently his facial expression had not become any more believably cheerful, however, because Isabelle flicked his ear and gave him a _look_.

“Hey. Stop thinking about Mom, this is a fun night.”

Alec winced. “You’re right, sorry. How was your week?”

“Busy but great, as always. I think I’m going to focus on forensics.”

“You say that every time you change departments though. In January you were convinced that you were going to be a neuropathologist.”

“Yeah but that was just because the department was so much nicer than the others and it was a break from pediatrics. Everyone prefers a brain tumor to a child.”

Alec laughed, drawing the attention of others.

“What’s so funny?” Simon asked.                                

“Just talking about work,” Alec answered despite the Simon’s question clearly directed at Isabelle.

Jace visibly shuddered. “None of that, this is a night of fun.”

“He just doesn’t want to talk about it because he’s terminally unemployed,” Clary said.

“It’s a choice that privileged kids with rich parents and semi-successful siblings can make,” Jace said loftily.

“ _Semi_ -successful?” Isabelle repeated, affronted.

“You, my dear sister, are very successful. I was _obviously_ talking about Alec, who’s a glorified intern.”

Instead of answering, Alec threw his chewed lemon rind at him. It was a good shot – it hit Jace just below the eye, leaving a splotch of juice that dribbled down his cheek and helped get a genuine smile on Alec’s face as the others laughed and clapped.

* * *

After a couple more beers, another shot and an hour of conversation about something other than politics, Alec was starting to feel markedly more cheerful. Every time his head tried to get his attention back to the crisis that was his entire life, someone around the table would do or say something that kept him in the moment. The frequent top ups of alcohol also helped to muddy his thought process, until his mind was fuzzy and his memories were blurred to the point where Alec couldn’t _quite_ remember what Maryse had said earlier. Those sharp pricks of sadness that had been consuming him softened around the edges until they were brief waves of melancholy. _Far_ easier to ignore.

Close to midnight, the bartender started glaring at them whenever one of them had the audacity to order a drink and conversation circled around to the next location. This night had apparently been Clary’s idea and so she was in charge of the itinerary. Alec was leaning against Jace’s side as his head spun pleasantly, not paying any attention to the argument about whether to walk or Uber.

“Can we just _go_?” Simon moaned after a while. “I want to dance.” He wiggled in his chair and started finger-gunning. Isabelle burst out laughing.

“What are you doing? Is that meant to be _dancing_?” Alec asked, dumbfounded.

“I’d like to see you do better,” Simon said, hopping from his chair to get his legs involved in the strange upper-body spasms.  “Let’s get a move on.”

“I’m not going if that’s how you dance.”

“You’ll want to witness the spectacle,” Jace said as the rest of the group stood and started gathering coats and bags. “It’s hilarious. And it’ll make your awkward-bopping look better by comparison.”

The cold of the New York night pierced Alec through his coat as they stepped outside. Apparently Jace had won the argument and they were walking to the club, but the chill of fall meant that the group picked up their pace to get there quicker. The weather combined with the sudden movement settled Alec’s head a little.

It still took him ten minutes to realize they were walking the wrong way.

“Huh? Where are we going?” he asked Isabelle. “Shit, do you want my coat?” he added as he noticed that she was only wearing a thin leather jacket over her dress. He glanced at Clary, who was in similar attire except she had Jace’s arm wrapped around her waist.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, I’m used to it. You’ll just whine about the cold.”

Little clouds of condensation puffed from her mouth with the words. Alec frowned and shrugged out of his coat wordlessly. Isabelle rolled her eyes, but accepted it. The sudden bite of the wind through his thin shirt cut through more of the drunken haze.

“Where are we going?” he asked again, shoving his hands into his armpits. “This is completely the wrong direction.”

Worryingly, Isabelle looked guilty. Alec’s pulse immediately jumped up a couple of beats per minute.

“Clary wanted to try a new place…”

“Oh god. Where?” Alec asked slowly, trying to work out what was suddenly going to go wrong. His only solace was that it couldn’t be Pandemonium: they could hardly walk to Brooklyn from here.

Still, it had to be pretty bad if Isabelle didn’t want to tell him.

 After a long pause, she admitted, “It’s a gay bar that opened last month.”

Alec’s mouth fell opened as he stared at his sister beseechingly. She gave him a look right back until he let his eyes fall closed and released a quiet moan.

“ _Why_ did you agree?”

“It was that or Pandemonium and I thought you’d been even _less_ pleased with that one. Simon and Clary hate the clubs we used to go to; apparently they’re for rich teenagers.”

Well, okay, Clary and Simon possibly had a point there. Alec’s old haunts were clubs Jace had found when he got his first fake ID and they’d liked it so much because everyone else was their age and had also got in with fakes. Now, as legal adults, the swarms of teenagers black-out drunk off alcopops were just an annoying reminder of the fact they were growing up.

“Okay, fine, so why did you invite me along?! You know I don’t want to go to a gay club.”

“You needed a night out! It was obvious you wanted a break from being a responsible adult.”

“I want to be drunk and have a night off but that doesn’t mean I can just forget about my job! Izzy, we _can’t_ go to a gay bar in the middle of Mom’s campaign. Not to mention we’re all straight so what’s the point?”

“I mean, I have my doubts about Simon…” Clary interrupted. She’d left Jace and Simon a few paces in front to join the conversation. She ignored Alec’s expression, which he thought adequately conveyed his anger and dismay at the turn the evening had taken, and barreled on with an explanation. “It’s a gay bar, yes, but it’s a new club in New York that’s apparently really nice so _everyone’s_ going to check it out. We aren’t going to stand out.”

“ _You_ might not. Me, Jace, and Isabelle are the mayor’s kids.”

“And it’s the twenty-first century: no one pays attention to local politics. Especially not to the _children_ of local politicians,” she said, rolling her eyes at him.

“She’s right, Alec,” Isabelle said. She patted his back, clearly trying to soothe him. “Besides, even if we run into the one person in New York who’s following Mom’s campaign with a magnifying glass, it’s going to be too dark for them to recognize us.”

“ _And_ once you’ve had a few more shots you’ll have a great time and thank us for it. We’re nearly there, you can’t go home now,” Clary finished, pointing to a building down the block with a line outside and neon lights.

Alec exhaled sharply, torn between what sounded more fun and the responsible thing to do.

If it had been any other night, the part of him that was a dedicated campaigner would have won and he would have called an Uber right there to take him home. But he was still tipsy and, if he was entirely honest, he didn’t want to be alone tonight. He wanted to forget his problems and act like a freshman in college without a real care in the world: away from parents and jobs and any kind of responsibility. Alec had never been that kind of college student, so maybe this was the opportunity to catch up on missed time. It was especially attractive when sobriety was crawling upon him, bringing with it the promise of an anxiety attack in the middle of the city. That, and he was already going to be in trouble at work, so this couldn’t really make it any worse.

“I’m freezing my balls off, can we get a move on!” Jace yelled from the front and the three of them picked up the pace, the decision made.

* * *

Alec would be the first to admit he had no talent at dancing. His go-to move was to dip his head to the beat and tap his palms against his thighs. It was awkward to do, and probably to watch, but it had served him well throughout the years of standing next to his sister, making her look even better.

Apparently, Simon had decided to take on Alec’s traditional role that night, as he stayed close to Isabelle the entire time. The problem was that the full-body seismic shudders Simon thought passed for dancing were far more attention-grabbing than any of Isabelle’s gyrations. Additionally, each time he attempted a new move, Isabelle had to stop dancing because she was creased over in hysterical laughter. Alec wasn’t sure if Simon was just enjoying making her laugh or trying to scare everyone else in club away to give them some room, but either way, it was working.

Clary and Jace were stood a few feet away, so wrapped up with each other that they were in their own world. Alec couldn’t stand to look at them for more than a few seconds without feeling nauseous.

That left Alec alone, a few feet away from his friends, awkwardly ducking to a song that was more likely to give him a headache to get him in a good mood. The pleasant buzz he had achieved in the bar was long gone, his drunkenness had morphed into something less enjoyable: he was light-headed and every time he moved too sharply, the edges of his vision would blur and bile would rise in his throat. The only positive was that the bad feelings were far away, merely an uncomfortable feeling in his gut (and that could just be the tequila).

Isabelle caught his eye from under Simon’s spiraling arms and raised an eyebrow. Alec was keenly aware that his scowling presence at the edge of the dance floor was lowering the mood of the party dramatically. Maybe if he got some water and fresh air he’d get back into it. He mimed drinking at her and gestured towards the bar. She gave him a brief thumbs up and went back to dancing.

He had to admit that the club was nicer than the ones he and Jace used to sneak Isabelle into. The whole thing was decorated with cool blue lights and dark paneling. The huge dance floor was made out of large glass tiles and it was ringed by raised podiums that Jace would probably be climbing on in a few hours. At the moment they were inhabited by groups of men who clearly were aware of how attractive they were, happy to show off their bodies as they danced, completely free of inhibitions.

Alec realized with a jolt that he had been staring at the guys instead of moving and one of them looking back at him. As soon as the stranger managed to catch Alec’s eye, he grinned, his teeth slowly biting down on his full lower lip. His top was a few sizes too small for him, showing off the clear definition of his pecs, the sleeves stretched tight around his impressive biceps as he tucked a dreadlock behind his ear.

Alec was so busy being embarrassed by the attention that he nearly jumped out of his skin when someone very deliberately pressed their body against his back. He jerked away from the hands that had been trying to rest on his hips, spinning around to see a short, fit guy smiling and beckoning him back towards the dance floor. The stranger said something to Alec that was lost in the bass.

Alec shook his head and nearly tripped back in his haste to get to the bar and away from everyone. He usually felt out of place in clubs, where people were more willing to flirt and show their interest: in a place like _this_ , where everyone was being themselves without inhibitions, he felt like an even bigger fraud.

He fought his way through the crowds, keeping his guard up this time and feeling like a cornered cat with its hackles raised.

The bar was packed and it took ten minutes just to fight through the lines to get to a spot where he could get a water. It was a good amount of time for Alec to relax slightly, letting the tension seep slowly from his muscles so by the time he got to the bar he felt less like he was amount to collapse into a shaky puddle.

Surprisingly, despite how slowly the line had moved, the bartender walked straight over to Alec within seconds of him arriving.

“Can I get a-” he began to shout but the man deposited a cocktail on the bar without listening, jerking his thumb at someone in the other end of the crowd before moving on. Confused, Alec followed the gesture down the line of people, looking for someone recognizable.

The benefactor was easy to spot, what with his outlandish outfit and lines of glittery makeup around his eyes. That, and the fact Magnus was wiggling his fingers at Alec and grinning widely.

The drink was the same blue cocktail Magnus had offered him at the fundraiser, obviously one of his favorites. It was sweet and alcoholic and didn’t make Alec’s stomach turn so he wasted no time in finishing it while he weaved his way through. He could get a water later, he reasoned as he gave up his spot at the bar: he was going to need a little confidence boost for whatever was about to happen.

“Hello Magnus,” he said when he got there.

“Alexander,” Magnus greeted, “I was quite surprised to see _you_ in the crowd.”

The music was so loud that in order for Alec to hear what was being said he had to lean so close that he could feel Magnus’ breath on his face.

“It wasn’t my choice, Isabelle and Clary…” he began to explain, then repeated himself when Magnus frowned and cocked his head towards Alec. His breath caught in his throat as Magnus put his hand on Alec’s hip, pulling him half a step closer so there was barely an inch of space between them.

He raised his eyebrows at Alec’s already empty glass, which he was holding between their chests like a shield.

“Want another?” he asked and somehow managed to conjure a bartender with a drink from nowhere before Alec could answer.

Alec took the second drink and sipped it, consciously trying to slow himself down this time. “Thanks. Why are you here?” Alec asked.

Magnus shrugged. “I get bored of Pandemonium sometimes and…” He continued talking but the DJ had changed the song and Magnus’ words were lost to the cheer of the crowd.

“What was that?”

Magnus rolled his eyes and moved even closer, so his lips brushed Alec’s ear as he spoke. “I said, a friend owns this place so I get free drinks all night.”

Alec was too drunk to properly hear the music or discern where his friends were on the crowded dance floor, but he was _very_ aware of every point of contact between their bodies. Magnus’ hand was on his hip, drawing him closer as they talked and their shoulders brushed as Magnus swayed along with the music.

Alec was also swaying, he realized, but not to the music. That drink had definitely been a bad idea. The hand that wasn’t clutching the new cocktail snaked its way onto Magnus’ hip to help steady himself, his fingers curling into the rumpled shirt that stuck out from his waistband of Magnus’ jeans.

He swallowed nervously at the brazen move, but no one said looked at them or said anything. The world didn’t end; Maryse didn’t descend on Alec in a flurry of rage and disappointment. Life carried on, and Alec felt a little more steady.

The only change was the slight widening of Magnus’ eyes and the soft intake of breath that Alec _swore_ he could hear above the music.

Whatever moment they were having ended abruptly  when a guy stumbled into Alec’s back on his way to the bar, throwing him off-balance and face-first into Magnus’ chest. His drink went all over both of them, splattering their outfits in sticky blue liquid. Alec didn’t particularly care about his shirt – he was pretty sure it was from a two-pack from Target – but Magnus’ silk shirt was probably irreparably stained.

He swore and spun around to confront the guy but Magnus stopped him with a hand on his bicep.

“Don’t worry,” he said, followed by something else which Alec couldn’t hear.

“What?”

Magnus repeated himself, but Alec still couldn’t catch the last bit, so he leaned further in, frustrated. Magnus rolled his eyes and jerked his head towards the edge of the room which was virtually empty of people due to the bouncers hanging around, guarding the VIP section.

Alec shifted his weight as he glanced back towards the dancefloor. He must have been away for a while now, and he didn’t want anyone to come searching for him. On the other hand, the alcohol running through his blood wanted to do something impulsive and fun. Right now, standing on a dance floor watching Jace and Clary grind on each other didn’t sound _fun_ …

_You’ll regret it tomorrow_ , the reasonable part of his brain reminded him.

“I should probably go back,” he said slowly, trying to ignore the voice yelling for him to be impulsive for once.

It didn’t really work because Magnus couldn’t hear what he said. He took Alec’s arm and gently pulled him towards the emptier corner of the club anyway.

_Oh well, I tried my hardest_ , Alec thought to himself, not feeling even remotely sorry for the turn of events.

To his surprise, Magnus didn’t stop pulling him forward until they reached the VIP section, which the bouncer let them into with a quick glance at Magnus and not even a second look at Alec. He apparently had his own booth at the place, and the sound was muted by the distance and heavy velvet furnishings.

“Sorry for being so grabby, Alexander, I just couldn’t hear a word,” Magnus said at a relatively normal volume as he sat on a couch. “What were you saying?”

“Oh, nothing important. Is this a perk of being friends with the owner?” he asked to divert attention, looking around.

The VIP section was empty except for a few small groups in their own private booths. It was just as dark as the rest of the club, maybe even darker without the flashes of lights from the dance floor, so Alec could barely make out their features even from four feet away.

“I like to think I’m a very important person without my connections… But yes, this is mostly because my friends love me. Are you going to sit?”

Alec immediately slid into the small space next to Magnus on the sofa instead of opposite him. Magnus, thankfully, was apparently too distracted by the curtains to notice Alec’s strangely intimate choice of seats. He was glad about that: there was no way he could explain his mood at that moment, he could barely predict his own actions.

 “Never liked this style of décor - it just screams _sleazy_. I feel like you’re just inviting people to have sex in your club with these curtains, don’t you think?” He leant over Alec to pluck at the dark purple velvet curtains that hung on either side of the booth.

“I, uh, suppose so,” Alec said, his thoughts catching up to the new situation as slowly as someone trudging through treacle.

“What you want is a thinner material, that doesn’t look like it was put up to hide certain… _fluids_. Maybe silk, but that could look tacky.”

“Are you… Are you doing _market research_ right now?”

Magnus hummed, but turned away from the curtains to smile at Alec. “I simply have a lot of opinions on good interior decorating. Ragnor has many strengths, but this,” he waved his hands around, Alec presumed to include the entire club, not just the booth, “is not one of them.”

Alec didn’t really understand – he thought the booth was fairly inoffensive – but it didn’t seem like an argument he could win, even if he cared enough to have it.

As if reading Alec’s mind, Magnus said, “I’m sure you don’t want to be talking about curtains on a Friday night.”

“Well, uh, it’s not the _worst_ thing we could talk about,” he said.

“Yes, but there are better. Would you like another drink?”

“I probably shouldn’t… Maybe a water, though.”

“That’s sensible,” Magnus said, waving at a waiter who was wandering around. He snapped to attention and brought over a couple of bottles of water at Magnus’ request. A perk of being a VIP, Alec supposed, greedily chugging half a bottle in one go. “How’s the campaign going?”

Alec frowned as he dimly remembered the events leading up to being drunk and in a gay bar. “Urgh. That’s definitely a worse conversation than curtains.”

“Ah, I apologize; we can talk about something else. How’s your sister?”

“Good, I suppose, she’s somewhere out there.” He waved in the direction of the dance floor.

“She’s brought you with her to look after  her this time?”

“I think it’s the other way round in her head,” Alec muttered.

Magnus raised his eyebrows. “Do you need looking after?”

Alec shrugged, suddenly hyperaware that he was the sole focus of Magnus’ attention. “I don’t know… She must think so? She worries about me.”

“I imagine it’s what siblings do.”

Alec cocked his head. “You don’t have any?”

“No. I never knew my parents, though, so I can’t be sure,” he said with startling honesty.

Usually, Alec would like to think that he would have replied with polite sympathy and an unwillingness to press any further into a stranger’s personal life. As it was, in his current state, he patted Magnus’ thigh and said, “That sucks… I can see the upside, though.”

“…You can see the upside of being an orphan?” Magnus qualified, looking understandable shocked. That was a sign that Alec should definitely _stop talking_ , but his mouth didn’t get the memo.

“You’d understand what I mean if you had my mother.”

Well, apparently the insensitive honesty train he was on was refusing to stop. Hopefully it would crash straight into a wall soon or Alec might end up getting another drink splashed across his face, but this time on purpose.

He sighed again and rubbed his hand across his eyes. “I’m really sorry, that wasn’t okay… It’s been a tough day. I’ve had a _lot_ to drink.”

What, exactly, was wrong with him? He was supposed to be forgetting about everything, drinking and dancing away his problems, not sitting on top of Magnus Bane, whining about his mother.

One thing was for sure: alcohol never did what he wanted it to, and he should always stick to a healthy limit of two beers, maximum.

Magnus was still watching Alec with a soft expression that he couldn’t decipher.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He relented under that intense stare. “Maybe, but I shouldn’t.”

‘Maybe’ was a lie. It felt like every secret he was keeping was trying to burst from his lips, and Magnus sitting next to him, waiting for him to sort through his thoughts with such patience despite the fact he probably wanted to be enjoying his night.

At some point, Alec had stopped staring at the table and had instead focused on Magnus’ face, which was barely a foot away from his. He was absurdly attractive. Really, it wasn’t fair that one man could be _so_ appealing.

Despite all the space in the booth, Alec had been gravitating even closer towards Magnus as they talked. They were still sat side-by-side, but they were so close to each other that their shoulders would be overlapping if they weren’t were twisting their bodies to face each other. Magnus’ right arm was stretched across the back of the seat behind Alec, and Alec had propped his leg up, with his foot on the edge of the couch and his calf resting against the table.

“Alright, we’re not talking about curtains, work, or your mother...” Magnus said and Alec could feel the slight exhalation of breath fan across his face. It had a faintly sweet aroma from the cocktails.

Alec was too distracted by Magnus’ lips that he nearly missed what Magnus said.

He was wearing makeup, like he had been every other time Alec had seen him, Alec could tell by the black lines and glitter around his eyes. He had to have something on his lips as well to make them shine like that, pulling all of Alec’s attention to how full and inviting they were.

“Mmm… Maybe we just shouldn’t talk,” he finally said. His voice was husky and he suddenly had to force the words out around a lump in his throat. “All I ever do is talk. Doesn’t make me feel better.”

Magnus leant forward, clearly responding to whatever he saw in Alec’s face, though Alec had no idea what it was;  he couldn’t remember ever having this particular mix of emotions. He felt hot all over, his heart was suddenly racing, sending shivers down his spine, and he was sure his face was bright red. There were butterflies battering at his stomach, and that damned lump in his throat was so large he could do anything but breathe and tilt his head to the side.

There was maybe an inch of air between their mouths. Alec wanted so desperately for it to be gone, but it felt charged with electricity.

“This is your choice,” Magnus whispered.

He still couldn’t speak. He stared into Magnus’ eyes and Magnus gazed back patiently.

Alec had his back to the rest of the club. To him, it was just him and Magnus, tucked away in their little dark corner. In this space, Alec could be whoever he liked, do whatever he wanted. The realization was exhilarating.

What Alec wanted right now was to know how it felt to kiss Magnus Bane.

So he leant forward, closing the distance between their mouths in a swift movement.

Magnus’ lips were soft and warm. Alec’s eyes fluttered shut and he sank into the kiss, taking a moment to appreciate everything about this man; how good he smelt, how smooth his skin felt under Alec’s lips, and the way his breath fanned across Alec’s face and sent shivers down his spine.

Magnus’ arm that had been draped across the back of the sofa curled around Alec’s shoulders, pulling him closer as the other hand came to rest on Alec’s waist. Alec responded eagerly to the touch, leaning against Magnus’ body and wrapping his hands around Magnus’ neck, burying his fingers in his hair, tugging him closer.

He tasted exactly like the cocktails from earlier, the sweetness tempting Alec to run his tongue lightly across Magnus’ as it traced the inside of Alec’s mouth. Whatever gloss he had on made his lips slightly sticky, and when Alec pulled back for a breath there was a moment when it felt like his mouth didn’t want to let go.

Alec felt a whole lot more calm, wrapped up in Magnus’ embrace. His heart had stopped jackhammering and he could breathe normally when they separated. The rock in the bottom of his stomach that had been weighing him down all evening had even disappeared, leaving him feeling as light as a feather. He didn’t have a care in the world other than how _right_ this felt.

He slid his fingers further into Magnus’ hair until his elbows were hooked over his shoulders and their chests were pressed against each other. The hand that was resting on Alec’s hip slowly travelled down his thigh, coming to a stop at his knee which Magnus gripped, hitching Alec’s leg across his own lap so that Alec was basically straddling him. He cupped Magnus’ face, trying to pull him even closer.

He shivered as Magnus’ trailed his hand up the back of his leg and rested it on his ass. He didn’t squeeze or grope, it was just a light pressure but Alec had never been more keenly aware of a touch before in his life.

In fact, Alec realized, he had never been so close to another person before in such an intimate way.

That thought knocked something in his brain back into gear (possibly the last vestige of sobriety that had been clinging on) and reality came crashing down. He was suddenly keenly aware that there were other people in the room still, no matter how dark the corner was. The sudden loss of the feeling of safety and anonymity felt like someone tearing a blanket off him on a cold morning and Alec pulled away from the kiss.

“I… Uh… Sorry, I, well…” he stuttered nonsensically as he awkwardly clambered back onto the couch.

Magnus put his hand over Alec’s, silencing his nervous rambling.

“That was nice,” he said simply.

Magnus’ cheeks were a little pinker than they had been before, Alec noted, and his perfectly styled hair was slightly mussed. The gloss had disappeared completely from his lips, which were curved upwards in a wide smile. Magnus was ever so slightly more disheveled. He looked even better than earlier, if that was even possible.

Holy _shit_ , Alec had actually just _kissed_ that man. More than kissed, that was full-on making out. There wasn’t an ounce of regret in him, just a healthy dose of astonishment.

“Yeah…” he agreed softly. “It was.”

“But it was probably getting a little too heated.”

“I thought that’s why your friend chose these curtains,” Alec joked weakly to take the attention away, scratching at the nape of his neck. The all-body flush he’d been experiencing seemed to be dissipating, leaving him feeling a little more normal and in control.

Magnus laughed. It was such a nice sound that Alec grinned back at him, the last traces of awkwardness leaving him in a rush. It was fun, he could almost see why Isabelle went out every chance she got. With the drinking and the flirting and the kissing and, really, Magnus in general, Alec was _finally_ having a good time.

But reality was still niggling at the back of his mind. He didn’t have a clue what the time was, but he had definitely been away from the others for ages.

“Are you going?” Magnus asked as if reading his mind.

“I said I was just going to get a drink, they might be worrying.” He needed to explain himself: he didn’t want Magnus to think he was running away.

Magnus nodded and slid neatly to his feet, holding a hand out to Alec as he said, “I suppose it’s not fair of me to monopolize _all_ your time.”

_I don’t mind_ , Alec wanted to say but he couldn’t find the courage. Instead, he smiled a little foolishly again and gave a jerky wave.

“Bye, Magnus,” he said.

Alec took a step to leave, but Magnus was still holding his hand and pulled him back. He brought Alec’s hand upwards and grazed his lips so lightly across the back of Alec’s knuckles that Alec would have thought he imagined it had he not watched him do it.

He stared at Magnus, momentarily dumfounded by the gesture. Magnus took that opportunity to say, “You know, if you need to talk to someone, Alexander, I’ll always find time to listen,” before letting go.

Yeah… There was definitely no regret on Alec’s side. That whole night was probably the best decision he’d ever made.

While he had the nerve, Alec threw himself back over to press a gently peck on Magnus’ lips. He liked the way Magnus’ brow rose in surprise and how soft his lips were. Then he left, stumbling back to the dancefloor on jelly-legs before Magnus could say anything else unbearably kind.


End file.
